


Family, Defined

by Raelynn



Series: Defining Family [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sequel, not series 4 compliant, parentlook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, slowly but surely, here it is - the sequel to my first long-form Sherlolly story, Defining Family.  It's hard to believe it's been almost two years since I started Defining Family!  Expect ridiculous amounts of fluff with Will and I'm so excited that you all finally get to meet Olivia, who was just a toddler when we left them.  She's definitely come into her own as a Holmes :)</p><p>I wrote this during NaNoWriMo 2015, and I'm editing it as I go, so expect about a chapter a week unless life gets in the way. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Molly Hooper-Holmes stood in the kitchen, eyes on the oven timer. Three more minutes until the cake she was baking was finished. She could hear her children in the back garden, and as she waited, she could hear their voices getting louder. The oven timer dinged, and she pulled the cake out, setting it on the rack on the counter to cool. She cocked her head again, listening for the children. Louder, and this time she could definitely hear anger in Will’s voice. She sighed, and set down the oven mitts. 

She turned to the door, ready to go outside and intercede on behalf of the neighbors, who were constantly complaining about the noise coming from her garden. Will was 8, Olivia 4, and they were just far enough apart in age that they would play together happily - right up until someone was unhappy. And if her children had anything in common, it was their ability to be spectacularly unhappy at a moment’s notice. 

Before she could reach the door, it flew open, slamming against the wall on the other side, and in barreled her children. William Donovan James Holmes, her eldest, came in first, his brown eyes blazing in anger. “Mama, OLIVIA…”

He was cut off by the arrival of his younger sister, Olivia Violet Holmes, who flew in after him, her ringlet curls bouncing as she skidded to a stop behind Will. “Mama, WILL…”

She cut them both off with a glare. “Try again”, she said simply, and both children sputtered in anger and unsaid words. She pointed to the door, and the both dropped their head and walked back outside, (gently) closing the door behind them. Will opened it, and came in, and Olivia filed in behind him, closing the door. They stood, watching their mother.

“Much better. We don’t want to have to ask Uncle Greg to come fix the door again, do we? The last time he had to come fix it he was very cross with you both.”

Will pouted. “Mama, Olivia won’t play right!”

Molly tilted her head. “Oh?”

“She keeps saying she’s a Princess, and we’re supposed to be playing Pirates!”

Olivia frowned. “Don’t wanna play pirates! We ALWAYS play pirates!” 

Molly looked from one child to the other, then stooped down to their level. “I think, then, that you two either need to find a way to play Pirates and Princesses, or maybe you guys need to take a break and play alone for a little while.”

Will scowled at this. “Fine. I’m going back outside.” He paused for a moment. “May I go back outside, Mama?”

Molly nodded, and he let himself back out into the garden. Molly turned to Olivia. “Now, would the princess like to help Mama decorate a cake? Papa will be home tomorrow and I wanted to have a nice cake for him.”

Olivia nodded, and walked over to the kitchen sink, sliding the step stool over and waiting for Molly to adjust the water for her. She scrubbed her hands, and the two of them set to making the icing for the cake. “Mama, princesses can still bake, right?” she asked. 

Molly smiled at her daughter. “Princesses can do whatever they want, I think. If they want to bake, they certainly can.”

By the time Will got bored with playing pirates alone, they’d iced the cake and put it into the refrigerator, and Olivia had gone up to her bedroom. Will came and and grabbed a banana off the counter, sitting down at the table while Molly washed up the dishes.

“Is Papa coming home soon?”

Molly nodded. “Tomorrow, he thinks. He sent me a text earlier.”

“I don’t like it when Papa is gone for a long time.”, said Will, peeling his banana. 

“I know you don’t, Will, but he and Uncle John are on a case. They’re just about done, and then they have to travel back. Your father’s work is very important.

“Did he catch the bad guy?”

Molly smiled, turning the water off and drying her hands. She went over to Will and sat on a chair next to him. “He did. We should be very proud of your Papa. The big question is, have you been practicing your violin while he was gone, and will he be proud of you?”

Will smiled, “I did! I practiced every day, just like I promised. Papa said I might be ready for some new music when he gets back, and I love shopping for new music!” His eyes gleamed at the thought of going to the music store. Sherlock always played a little bit of the music they were looking at, and then Will chose which one he wanted to learn next. 

Molly reached over and ruffled her son’s hair. He scowled at her for it, and she laughed. “I keep forgetting how big you are now.”

Will glanced upwards. “I’m sorry me and Olivia fought.” 

Molly shrugged. “That’s what brothers and sisters do, I’m told. Ask Papa about him and Uncle Mycroft sometime.” 

Will laughed, and stood up. “He and Uncle Mycroft fight NOW. Aren’t you supposed stop doing that when you grow up?”

Molly pointed to the banana peel he’d left on the table, and Will grabbed it, taking it over to the bin. “I think once you grow up you’re supposed to be better at working out disagreements, yes. Your Papa and Uncle Mycroft, however…” she trailed off. “They are who they are. Don’t use them as an example!”

Will laughed, then headed toward the stairs up to his room. “I’m going to practice again today, since Papa is coming home tomorrow!”

Molly watched as he disappeared into the sitting room and up the stairs, and then reached for her mobile. She texted Sherlock:

Hurry home, love. It’s hard being a single parent to two Holmes children!” - MH

Dinner that night was subdued. The kids ate without too much fuss, which they always did when their father wasn’t home. Sherlock’s ability to survive on air was not a trait his children had inherited, but they seemed to think that if Papa was picking at dinner, they didn’t need to eat either. Without Sherlock there shoving food around on his plate and finding excuses not to eat, they cleaned their plates in record time. 

Molly watched her children, still occasionally overwhelmed by how her family had come together. When she found herself, single, alone, and pregnant, she had no idea how she would ever get through everything. Sherlock had become a rock during the pregnancy, and when she went into labor early, when John and Mary were out of the country, he’d even come to the delivery with her.

She smiled to herself, remembering the months after Will was born, when Sherlock stepped in as a father figure to him, and the day he finally admitted that he loved her, and wanted to be a family with her and Will. Her magical wedding day was trumped only by the day Sherlock formally adopted Will. 

Sherlock asking for a baby for his birthday had surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. Sherlock had taken to being Papa like a fish to water, and the only thing that had really surprised her in the four years since Olivia’s birth was that he hadn’t wanted any more. 

Then again, these two were quite the handful, she thought to herself.

The kids helped clean up after dinner, and she sent Will upstairs to take a shower. She ran a bath in the en suite to the master bedroom and gave Olivia a bath, carefully wet-coming out her curls. She had inherited her father’s curls, but they were wild, and rarely wanted to behave. By half eight, she was tucking Olivia into bed with a story and a kiss, and by 9 she poked her head into Will’s room.

He’d fallen asleep reading, just like most nights. She slid the book from his hand, turned off his bedside light, and kissed him on the forehead. “Goodnight, my Pirate,” she whispered, pulling his covers up and tucking him in safe.

She made her way down to the sitting room, where she picked up a medical journal and curled up on the sofa. She wouldn’t be up much later herself. Having to get both kids off to school and herself off to Bart’s was a struggle without Sherlock to help. Usually they spent the mornings dividing and conquering, and then Sherlock took them to school as she left for Barts.

She nodded off at some point, and was awoken by the sounds of a key in the door. She picked her head up, curious, and broke out into a huge grin when the door opened.

There stood Sherlock. Her husband. Love of her life, he who had captured her heart long before that day he kissed her and then panicked. He slipped out of his Belstaff and hung it on the hook by the door, and then turned to her. “Surprise.” he deadpanned.

She leapt to her feet, throwing herself into his arms. “You’re early!” 

Sherlock leaned down and kissed her. “Both John and I decided that we couldn’t wait to get back to our families. We drove straight through to get home tonight.”

“The kids are going to be so excited in the morning!” she said. 

Sherlock smiled. “Not as excited as you were, I bet!”

“Mmm, debatable. Will was already complaining about you being gone too long this time around.”

Chuckling, Sherlock took Molly by the hand and led her towards the stairs. “Will? Complaining? I’m stunned.”

“I know it’s very hard to believe. He’s usually such a calm, happy child.” They both giggled, then quieted as they passed the doors to the kid’s bedrooms. “Better not wake them,” said Molly, noticing how Sherlock slowed outside their doors. “They’ll never get back to sleep, they’ll be so excited.”

Sherlock frowned. “You’re right, of course. I’ve just missed them so much. Surely I won’t wake them if I just peek in on them?”

Molly nodded, and reached for the door to Olivia’s bedroom. Olivia slept above her covers, legs akimbo. She always looked like she’d fought sleep until the very end, and then lost. Sherlock smiled, and closed the door. He then turned and opened the door across the hall, that led to Will’s room. Will was still tightly tucked under the covers, as Molly had left him a few hours ago. 

Sherlock closed the door, and they made their way to their bedroom, undressing and putting their pyjamas on. “Was it bad, me being gone this long?”

Molly shrugged, “It’s always bad when you’re gone, because you aren’t here. But they’re fine. They’re just intelligent, active, Holmes kids. They’re hard to keep up with on a good day. We’ve managed so far.”

Molly braided her hair, and Sherlock slipped into bed. “I’ve missed you, too.” he said “In case you think I only missed the children.”

Molly giggled, “No, I’m pretty sure you missed me, too.” She climbed into bed, letting Sherlock pull her into his arms. “I missed you.”

Sherlock kissed her, snuggling tight against her. “I’m glad I made it home tonight.”

“Me too.”

o0o***o0o

Molly’s alarm went off early in the morning. She leaned over to the nightstand, blinding fumbling for her phone to swipe it away. Grumbling, she rolled over to greet her husband, the first time she’d been able to do so in over a week. She was greeted with a smile, his blue-green eyes twinkling. Molly rubbed her eyes. “How can you possibly be this wide awake this early?” she said, folding herself into his embrace. “You don’t eat, you don’t sleep. It’s enviable, I swear.”

Sherlock placed a soft kiss on the top of his wife’s head, breathing deeply and enjoying the closeness. “I want to wake the children.” he said simply, and Molly nodded. 

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you that. I’ll head into the shower.” 

She stalled, however, laying in Sherlock’s embrace as long as she dared. Sometimes she got so wrapped up in being Mama, she needed these moments to remember that she was a woman with a husband that she loved very much, and enjoyed snogging the breath out of. However, Olivia often woke up on her own, and she knew how much Sherlock wanted to surprise them. Eventually she extracted herself and headed into the ensuite. “Better start with Will,” she said over her shoulder. “If you start with Libby she’ll shriek so loud she’ll wake him up.”

Molly adjusted the water quickly and stepped in, luxuriating in the knowledge that she had her coparent back, and he would get the kids up and fed. Sherlock’s hours weren’t ideal, but it certainly made mornings easier when he had nowhere to be. Being able to take a take a shower without having to get up at the crack of dawn so she could be done before the children needed to be awoken was one of the many, many benefits to having Sherlock home.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had quietly crept into Will’s room. Standing over him, he watched his son sleep. He looked peaceful for once, his stubborn, opinionated, strong-willed son. Sherlock chuckled quietly at that. Argue nature versus nurture all day long, but Will had more traits in common with Sherlock than his sister, who actually shared his DNA. No one could ever question his parentage, biological or not. Will was a mini-Sherlock, through and through.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing Will’s hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes. He’d need a haircut, and soon. “Will,” he said quietly. “Will, it’s time to wake up.”

Will stirred, grabbing for the covers. “Don’t wanna get up, Papa,” he said, pulling the blanket over his head. Then, realization dawned, and he shot straight up, launching himself into Sherlock’s arms. “PAPA! Mama said you wouldn’t be home until later today!”

Sherlock pulled his son into his arms and hugged him. “Uncle John and I missed our families too much, so we drove straight through last night. I got in late, after you and Olivia were already asleep, so we decided to wait until the morning.”

Will untangled himself from Sherlock’s arms, suddenly remembering that he was a Great Big Boy of Eight, and far too old to be curled up in his Papa’s lap. “I practiced my violin while you were gone, Papa. Every day, just like I promised!”

Sherlock smiled. “I can’t wait to hear you play after school. I haven’t forgotten my promise of new music.” 

Will beamed.

“Okay, I need to go wake up your sister. Get dressed, and meet us downstairs for breakfast. Let’s give your mom the morning off, shall we?”

Will nodded, and climbed out of bed, making his way over to his wardrobe. Sherlock watched him for a moment, then stood and made his way across the hall to Olivia’s room.

Olivia was tucked under the covers, a stuffed elephant tucked tightly into her arms. He was glad to see her thumb wasn’t in her mouth. While they’d managed to get her to break the habit during the day, it often found it’s way into her mouth at night, something that upset her if she woke up and discovered it. 

He sat on the edge of Olivia’s bed and gently shook her. “Olivia, darling, it’s time to wake up.” 

Olivia was a bit quicker than her brother in the morning. She burst up out of bed and almost knocked Sherlock over. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” she shrieked, and Sherlock realized that yes, waking Will first was a good idea.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did you sleep good?”

“You’re home! I missed you! Did you catch the bad guys? Is Uncle John home, too?” The string of questions tumbled out of the four year old’s mouth, not taking a breath or waiting for an answer. Sherlock waited until she spent herself.

“Yes, I am. I missed you too. Yes, we caught the bad guys. Yes, Uncle John is home too.” Olivia snuggled into Sherlock’s arms. “Will is waiting downstairs for breakfast. Do you know what you’re supposed to wear today?”

Olivia nodded, and jumped out of bed, walking over to the clothes Molly had sat out for her the night before. 

“Can you get dressed yourself?” Sherlock asked, knowing full well she could.

“Yes, Papa!”

“Okay, then. I’m going to go get breakfast ready, hurry and come downstairs.”

Sherlock let himself out of her bedroom, making his way down to the kitchen, where Will had already gotten out cereal bowls and milk glasses. “I started, Papa,” he said, proudly.

“So you did, thank you Will. That’s very helpful.”

By the time Molly made her way downstairs, both children were eating cereal and filling Sherlock in on what he’d missed while he was out of town. Molly walked in and was greeted with a cup of coffee and some toast, her usual breakfast. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

Molly sat down with the kids, sitting back and watching the chaos around her. Olivia was trying to tell Sherlock about their latest trip to the zoo, but Will kept interrupting to correct her on details. Sherlock sat back quietly, soaking it all in. Yup, she wouldn’t trade this for all the quiet mornings in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly kissed each of her children on the top of their heads, careful not to smudge her expertly applied lipstick. “Now, remember what I told you. Be good for Uncle Greg, and do what he tells you. He’s in charge, and Papa and I will be back after the fundraiser at Barts.”

Both of her children smiled up at her with angelic expressions, and she narrowed her eyes. “I mean it,” she warned.

Both kids stared up at her, doing their best to look perfectly innocent. Will mumbled, “Yes, Mama.” as Olivia shuffled her feet, itching to be away from the prying eyes of her over-dressed mother. 

“Okay, Mama,” she said finally.

Molly shook her head, and left them to whatever made-up game they’d been playing in Will’s bedroom, and made her way back downstairs, where Sherlock and Greg were waiting. Molly stopped on the stairs to admire Sherlock as he discussed some case or other with Greg. Sherlock had always been good looking, verging on beautiful in this otherworldy way, but the last few years had brought a maturity to his features that he wore very well. The bits of grey coming in around his temples occasionally distressed him, but she found them unbearably sexy. Her vain husband, not so much. She smiled, and joined her husband and Greg in the sitting room. “Okay, they’ve been given The Speech, but I know they have you wrapped around their fingers, Greg. They’ve had dinner, Olivia already had her bath, but make sure Will takes a shower. He’ll do anything to get out of it.”

Greg sat down on the sofa, staring up at the two of them. “I did raise several children of my own. I got this. I even mostly raised you!” he said, looking to Sherlock, who rolled his eyes. 

“You did not “raise” me, Gavin. You simply...supervised.”

Greg laughed. “I seem to recall it was me, not your father or your brother, you called when you were ready for your third stint in rehab.” 

Sherlock considered this for a moment. “True, but only because I knew you’d just do it, my brother or father would have speeches and scolding and ‘Oh, Sherlock, we’re ever so disappointed in you...again.’ No thanks.” 

“Oh, I was disappointed, I just knew it wouldn’t do any good to tell you that, and it might even make you more inclined to continue to disappoint me. You were pretty good at doing exactly the opposite of what anyone wanted.”

Sherlock chuckled, “True. Although I still tease John about that day you were searching Baker Street right after we met, and he was absolutely stunned that I would be involved in anything “recreational.”

Greg laughed, “Poor John. He had no idea what he was getting into. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was getting into, but I decided not to warn him off. I thought he’d be good for you.”

“He was,” said Sherlock quietly. “Still is.”

“But not as good for you as your lovely wife has been,” said Greg, turning to Molly.

Molly watched the two of them, barely concealing a smile. Greg had absolutely been a father figure to Sherlock during his darkest days, and was instrumental to bringing him in to consult with the Met during the early years. Did Sherlock forget how tenuous those early consults were? The trouble Greg almost got in for him? She chuckled. Yes, he’d probably deleted that as unimportant.

Sherlock turned at the sound of her soft chuckle, and, reading her face, announced, “Okay, it’s time to go. We wouldn’t want to be late for the fundraiser.”

Greg waved them off. “Shoo, go, have fun. There’s a car waiting outside for you guys.”

Sherlock took Molly’s arm and guided her to the front door. Molly threw a look over her shoulder at Greg. They both knew the yearly St. Barts fundraiser was the last place Sherlock wanted to be. In years previous, he had taken cases - ANY CASES - to get out of going.

But this year he was stuck, and Greg had graciously agreed to babysit. 

The door had barely closed behind their parents when Greg heard the pitter patter of small feet on the stairwell. “Hi, Uncle Greg!” said Will cheerfully, making his way down the stairs, his younger sister trailing along behind him. “Did Mama and Papa leave?”

Greg looked up at the small faces peering over the bannister at him as they made their way down. “Indeed they have. And I’m told you’re to take a shower before bed.”

Will glanced up at the large clock over the fireplace. “It’s hours until bedtime.” he said, and that was that. He got to the bottom of the stairs and glanced toward the kitchen. “Can we have a snack?”

“Well,” Greg said, “Your mother didn’t say you couldn’t, but…”

“Thanks, Uncle Greg!” said Will, and the two of them diverted their path directly into the kitchen, where soon all Greg heard was cupboards opening and closing, and excited chatter. He waited, and a few moments later the children emerged from the kitchen.

Olivia’s night dress was pulled up to her waist, making a sort of pocket, and it was bulging with items. “Whatcha got there, Olivia?” said Greg, conversationally. “How many snacks do you have?”

Olivia looked at him, then looked down at her over-filled “pocket”. “Two.”

“Two, hm? Must be two very big things. Do you have two watermelons in there?” He raised his eyebrows at her as she stood there, looking down into her nightdress with a guilty expression on her face.

While he was questioning Olivia, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Will was watching him, waiting for him to be sufficiently distracted, in order to make a run for the stairs with whatever booty he’d managed to gather in the kitchen. Greg pretended not to notice.

“No…” said Olivia. She was not as good as her brother at being sneaky (yet, thought Greg. She’s a Holmes.) and knowing she was caught, she panicked. She let go of the hem of her nightdress, and a pile of treats, fruit and random sweets fell into the floor. She looked down at it, and then back up at Greg.

Greg surveyed the pile. Will took this opportunity to begin inching his way toward the staircase. “Okay, Olivia. You can have one piece of fruit, and one sweet. Go put the rest of it away. Oh, and Will, get back down here,” he added, glancing at the boy.

Will had made it about halfway up the stairs. “Awww, man.” he said, and came back down. While Olivia sorted through her collection of snacks, Greg motioned for Will to come over to the sofa. 

“Empty your pockets.”

Will scowled and pulled out sweet after sweet, depositing them on the coffee table. 

“Ooh, my favorite,” said Greg, grabbing a couple of things. “Now, you may have ONE of these sweets, and one piece of fruit.” 

Will grumbled, but picked out a sweet, and then went into the kitchen, coming back with an apple. He showed what he had in his hands to Greg, who sent him upstairs with a wave. Olivia had returned her pile of stuff to the kitchen, and came back, one hard candy and a banana in hand. Greg nodded, and she went upstairs, as well.

“Don’t leave that banana peel upstairs or your mother will have my head!” he called after her.

Greg sighed, and settled back on the sofa, unwrapping a sweet and popping it into his mouth. “Remind me to send Mr. and Mrs. Holmes the elder a fruit basket for what it must have been like with Sherlock and Mycroft,” he said to the empty room.

Around 8, Greg turned off the telly and went upstairs. Olivia was playing on her floor, a collection of stuffed animals and dolls around her. “Bedtime, little one,” he said from the door. Olivia looked up and sighed. Greg shrugged, “Not my rules, take it up with your Mum and Dad.” Olivia surveyed her stuffed animal army, and tossed two or three onto her bed before heading across the hall to the bathroom. Greg followed her in to supervise teeth cleaning. On their way out, he stuck his head into Will’s room, reminding him that he needed a shower, and now would be a good time.

“Story, Uncle Greg?” said Olivia, once they’d made it back into her bedroom. She pointed to the pile of books on her nightstand, and Greg dug through them, picking out one he knew his daughter had liked when she was young. As he began to read, he heard the shower turn on, and by the end of the book Olivia was snuggled into her blankets and fast asleep. Standing, Greg went to leave the room, and detoured over to the small desk across the room, picking up the banana peel he knew wouldn’t make it downstairs. Exiting the room, he turned off her light, and went out into the hall, quietly closing the door. 

“One down, one to go,” he said. Just then, Will poked his head out of the bathroom, hair soaking wet and pyjamas clinging to a still-wet 8 year old boy. “Have you heard of towels?” quipped Greg, looking at him.

“Takes too long. Boring.” said Will.

Greg shook his head. “You are far too much like your father. At least go dry your hair.”

He had just settled himself back down on the sofa and was flipping through channels on the telly when he heard footsteps on the stairs. “I dried my hair!” said Will, “Can I watch telly with you for a little bit?”

Greg glanced at the time. Still only 8:30. Will didn’t have to be in bed until 9. “Only until bedtime.” he said. 

Will climbed up onto the sofa, and they settled on an old murder-mystery show that didn’t look too objectionable. Will had obviously been watching telly with Sherlock, as he was constantly making observations about the ineptitude of the detectives on the show. After a while, Greg’s eyes started dropping, and he drifted off to sleep.

Will, knowing when he had it good, stopped with his vocal observations, and kept watching, Greg snoring softly next to him on the sofa. He reached for one of the sweets, left abandoned on the coffee table. One soon turned into two, and then three, and soon the entire pile of sweets transformed into a pile of wrappers. He leaned against Greg, waiting for the detective on the telly to realize that it really WAS the butler, after all.

By the time the car dropped Sherlock and Molly off, and they’d let themselves into the flat, they found both Greg and Will sound asleep on the sofa, Will laying with his head against Greg. They both softly snored.

Molly stood, frozen, watching this. “Ten bucks says Greg fell asleep and Will hasn’t been asleep for long,” she said.

“That’s a bet I’ll not take,” said Sherlock. He bent to pick up Will, who mumbled in his sleep. As he carried Will up to bed, Molly went to wake Greg, noticing the pile of sweets wrappers on the coffee table.

“Greg? We’re home.”

Greg sat up quickly. “Bedtime, Will!” he said, and then he realized Will was nowhere to be found. “Oh.”

Molly laughed. “Looks like he outlasted you, but he was asleep when we got home. Sherlock took him upstairs. Did you eat all these?” she indicated the sweets.

Sighing, Greg stood. “No, I took those away from him earlier, he must have gotten into them after I fell asleep.”

Molly sighed. “Well, if his stomach hurts in the morning, he’ll have only himself to blame. The car is waiting outside to take you home. Thanks again for sitting. John and Mary normally sit for us but of course they were in attendance, as well. They say hello, by the way.”

“How are they doing?” Greg asked.

“Good, good. They’re thinking about taking a holiday with Amanda before school starts back up again.”

“Holiday sounds like a lovely idea,” remarked Greg. “Are you guys planning to travel at all this summer?”

Molly shook her head. “The kids are going to go spend some time with their grandparents and that will give us a bit of a break. I think we’re looking at going somewhere in the spring, though. We’re still researching, you know how Sherlock is.” She glanced toward the door. ”Anyhow, thanks so much for watching the kids tonight.”

Greg stood, stretched and hugged Molly. “Anytime. Although they’re an awful lot like Sherlock. Sneaky little kids.”

Molly sighed. “I know. It’s charming, right up until it isn’t.”

“Kinda like their father?” quipped Greg. 

They both laughed, just as Sherlock came down the stairs. “What?” he said, watching them.

“Your children.” said Molly, and she and Greg laughed again. 

“Indeed,” said Sherlock. “I checked in on Olivia, she’s asleep.”

Molly nodded, and walked Greg to the door. She locked it behind him and turned to Sherlock. “You did good tonight, darling.”

Sherlock preened. “I did, didn’t I? Want to hear all the deductions I didn’t do about your coworkers?”

Molly took him by the hand, leading him up the stairs. “Of course I do. But first I want to get out of these heels. And this dress.”

Sherlock leaned forward, nipping at her neck. “I’d like to get you out of that dress, as well.”

Giggling quietly, the two made their way past the children’s bedrooms and into their own.


	3. Chapter 3

The Holmes and the Watsons had an agreement. They would take turns taking the children for the night, so each set of parents had a night to themselves once in awhile. This time, it was Will and Olivia’s turn to spend the night with Amanda Watson.

Will, however, wasn’t entirely keen on the idea.

“I don’t want to go.” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed as his mother put a change of clothes and his pajamas into a small backpack. “I don’t want to spend the night at Aunt Mary and Uncle’s John’s.”

Molly looked up, concerned. “What’s wrong, love?”

Will kicked his feet and stared at the ground. “They always want to play GIRL things. I don’t want to play girl things.”

Molly took a breath, and turned to face her son. “What sort of things are “girl” things?”

Will scowled. He knew what was coming next, and he’d walked right into. “I don’t know. Dolls and stuff.”

Molly walked over and sat down next to her son. She and Sherlock had spent a lot of effort keeping things fair across gender lines in their house. The kids often played together, with little regard to whose toys were whose, but Will was getting older and she knew he was picking up on societal cues.

“Dolls,” she said simply. “Do you know why children play with dolls?”

“Because girls like babies?” he said.

“Because children like to do things they see their parents doing. One thing parents do is take care of babies. Once upon a time, Dads didn’t do a lot of the caring for babies; that was left for mothers. Of course back then, a lot of moms didn’t have jobs - well, jobs outside the home. Their job was to take care of the children, so most of the baby-raising went to the moms.”

She paused and watched Will, to see if he was following her. She continued. “Now, I know you have friends with moms who don’t work outside the home, and that’s a totally valid choice. But even for those moms, the dads are a lot more involved with their babies than they would have been 30 or 40 years ago. So it’s not just little girls who need to practice being caregivers, is it? Can you imagine if Papa had never changed any of Olivia’s diapers, or never rocked her to sleep at night?”

Will shook his head. He was old enough when Olivia was born to know that his Papa had done everything Mama had done for Olivia ...well, except one.

“Papa couldn’t nurse Olivia!” he said, then started laughing at the thought of his Papa nursing a baby. 

Molly nodded her head in agreement. “Well, there’s still things most Papa’s can’t do, and nursing is one of them. Although remember when we talked about Mr. Timothy, Papa’s friend?”

Will thought for a moment. “Oh! When Mr. Timothy was born, he had girl parts, so everyone assumed he was a girl. But when he got older, he realized that he was really a boy, inside. So he had doctors help him look more like what he felt like on the inside.”

Molly nodded. “Mr. Timothy could have nursed a baby, before he took the medication that helped him be more like how he felt inside. But he’d still have been a Papa.”

Will thought about this for a few moments. “I know we’re not supposed to say girl toys and boy toys, Mama. But sometimes Olivia and Amanda are just boring!”

Molly leaned over and hugged him, “It’s hard being the only boy in the group, I know. But it’s just for one night, and maybe you can find a board game that Olivia can play that the three of you would enjoy, and take that over?”

Will jumped up and headed over to the shelf where they kept the board games, and picked one out that he knew Olivia could play, even though she was just starting to read very simple words. He put it with his backpack. 

Molly ruffled his hair and stood and left the room, heading across the hall to get Olivia packed up. Luckily, Olivia had managed to pack up her few stuffed animals she couldn’t part with, and had even remembered to pack clothes. Molly double checked her choices and then sent her downstairs to the kitchen.

John Watson arrived a little while later to pick the children up. Molly let him into the house. “Hey, John. Didn’t bring the whole crew?”

Laughing, followed Molly into the kitchen where the kids were finishing up their dinner. “No, and for much the same reason!” he said, pointing to the kids. “Amanda was stalling finishing dinner, so Mary sent me on ahead to get the kids while she tried to coax a pea or two into her. You’d think we were trying to kill her by asking her to eat!”

Sherlock came into the kitchen. “Food. Boring.” he quipped as he poured himself a glass of milk.

“Yeah, your Goddaughter takes after you in that regard, that’s for sure.” said John, “Of course she’d pick up all of your most annoying habits.”

“Not all of them, I hope,” said Sherlock, grinning over the top of his glass.

Molly shook her head. “Okay, kids, finish up! We don’t want to keep Uncle John waiting!”

Will shoveled his last bite of meat into his mouth and stood. “Done!”

Molly raised her eyebrows at him, and he turned back and picked up his dishes, taking them over to the sink and rinsing them before putting them into the dishwasher. While he was doing that, Olivia brought her plate and cup over, and he rinsed and put hers away, as well. 

Molly and Sherlock kissed each of the kids goodbye and they grabbed their bags on the way out. John buckled Olivia and Will in and off they went on the drive to the Watson’s townhouse.

oOo

Amanda was outside on the stoop waiting when they pulled up in the car. “WILL! OLIVIA!” she yelled as John got the kids out of the car and handed each of them their bag. He carried in the board game Will had insisting on bringing. The kids ended up in a tumbling pile of hugs and wrestling, and Mary stuck her head out the door. “Oi! Are you children or monkeys?”

Amanda’s head popped up from the pile of children. “MONKEYS!” she said gleefully, and soon the children were making all their best monkey noises.

John scooped up the two abandoned backpacks and carried them into the house. Mary came out and stood on the porch, watching the kids run around in the front garden, chasing each other and working their way through every animal noise they could come up with. After a while, she called them in. “Okay, I think it’s time for the entire zoo to come into the house!”

After a few moments of grumbling, all three children made their way into the house. Will and Olivia grabbed their backpacks (and the board game) and followed Amanda up to her room. “I brought a game!” said Will, pointing to Snakes and Ladders. “I know it’s kinda a baby game,” he whispered to Amanda, “But Mama said to bring something Olivia could play.”

Amanda looked over at Olivia, who was digging around in her backpack for the stuffed animal she’d brought. “Right. Well, that’s fine. She’ll fall asleep before us and we can play something else.”

Amanda set up the board while Olivia and Will got settled on the floor around it. They played through twice, with Olivia winning the first game and Will winning the second game. By that time, Olivia was starting to yawn. 

“One more,” said Amanda. “And then you need to clean your teeth and get into bed because I think you’re going to fall asleep sitting there!”

“Not tired,” said Olivia, but she rubbed her eyes and yawned again. 

“Uh-huh,” said Will. “You go first.”

Will won that game, too, and then he dug out Olivia’s toothbrush and sent her off to the bathroom. Amanda went downstairs to tell her mom that Olivia was falling asleep. 

Mary came up with some extra pillows just as Olivia came back from the bathroom. She tucked Olivia into Amanda’s bed. Amanda and Olivia often shared, with Will on the floor in a sleeping bag. “You two go play in our room until you’re ready to sleep, so you don’t keep her up.”

They nodded, grabbing Cluedo on their way out. Now that Olivia was in bed, they could play big kid games.

Not surprisingly, Will won both games of Cluedo they played. “I’m going to be a detective, just like my Papa. He’s teaching me how to do deductions!”

“What are deductions?” asked Amanda, pulling the blankets off her parent’s bed and making a big nest on the floor with the pillows they’d already pilfered.

“It’s like, you look at someone and you notice things that tell you things about them. Like, I know you had spaghetti for dinner because you spilled some on your shirt.”

Amanda looked down at the spaghetti stain on her tee-shirt. “Mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Anyway, stuff like that, although Papa can see things NO one would notice. Like, he’d know where you went earlier today by, I don’t know, your shoes or something. But someday I’ll be as good as Papa!”

Amanda nodded. “My dad is a doctor and my mom is a nurse and I don’t like going to the doctor! I don’t want to be like them! I think maybe I’ll be a teacher when I grow up.”

Will made a face. “I hope you’re a nicer teacher than the one I had last year! She was so mean! None of the kids liked her, except maybe Lindsay, but Lindsay likes everyone.”

Mary poked her head in the door. “Really? You’re gonna make me remake my entire bed at 10:00 at night? By the way, it’s ten o’clock. Long past time for both of you to be asleep. Up you go.”

The kids followed Mary out, taking turns cleaning their teeth while Mary set up the sleeping bag for Will. “If you kids are good we’ll get breakfast at Speedy’s and drop Will and Olivia off at your dad’s office. Mrs. Hudson’s been complaining about not seeing you guys in forever, and Sherlock’s got clients to meet with tomorrow. We can visit, and after we come back home, Will and Olivia can hang out with Mrs. Hudson until Sherlock’s done.

Amanda was very excited about the idea of getting to see Mrs. Hudson, and Will was excited because Mrs. Hudson always had the good chocolate biscuits he loved. They were tucked into bed soon enough, and Mary kissed them both on the forehead before leaving them, the door slightly ajar.

She looked into her bedroom and sighed, and then got to work making the bed back up. She knew she and John wouldn’t be awake much longer either, not with three children who would be up with the sun. She got it settled, and then peeked in on the children. Amanda was sound asleep, curled protectively around Olivia. Will waved to her, the sleeping back pulled up under his chin. 

“Night, Aunt Mary,” he murmured. She nodded, and quietly closed the door.

oOo

John was stretched out on the couch, flipping the channels with the remote. She stopped in the doorway and watched her husband for a moment. In the years since they’d met, they’d been through so much, and not just the business with Magnusson. The time they’d spent apart during her pregnancy had been difficult for both of them. They’d worked very hard on their relationship once they reconciled, however, and she felt they’d made a good family for Amanda.

Unfortunately, despite the ease with which she’d gotten pregnant with Amanda seemed to be a fluke, as they had tried off and on in the nine years since her birth for another one, and had never had any success. Trips to the doctor had revealed no obvious problems, and they’d investigated other options, but in the end, had decided that they had Amanda, and their friendship with Sherlock and Molly had brought Will and Olivia into their lives.

But Mary couldn’t help but think sometimes that Amanda was jealous of Will having a sibling, even if she never said anything to her about it. 

She walked in and sat down. John scooted over and placed his head in her lap, and kept flipping channels.

“Do you think we did the right thing in not trying harder to have another baby?” she said after a few moments of silence.

John turned off the telly and looked up at her. “Something wrong?”

Mary shrugged. “Not particularly, it’s just something I think about when I see Will and Olivia together.”

John sat up. “We weren’t exactly young when we had Amanda. Once we realized there was a problem, well, I didn’t particularly relish having a teenager when I was 60. And Amanda’s pretty happy. She’s got lots of friends, and Will and Olivia are like cousins to her.”

Mary hummed her agreement, and was quiet for a few moments. “I know you’re right. It’s why we didn’t. We got started late, and with how easy Amanda came along, it never occurred to me that we couldn’t pop out another two or three before I turned 40.”

John reached over and took her hand, and the two of them sat quietly for a few moments. After a while, Mary shook her head and stood up. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be all maudlin tonight. It’s nice to have a house full of kids. But then I think about what it would be like to do it full-time, and maybe things worked out after all.”

John stood up, and hugged his wife, kissing her softly. “Just be glad we don’t have Holmes children full-time.”

Mary laughed. “Now THAT is something I’m thankful for every day, no matter how much I love those two. Speaking of which, I promised all three of them breakfast at Speedy’s and a visit with Mrs. Hudson tomorrow, so they’ll be clamoring for that as soon as the sun rises. I think I’m going to take my book and go to bed.”

John glanced down at his watch. “Yeah, not a bad idea. I’ll join you.”

oOo

True to form, John and Mary were awoken at half seven by three not-so-small children careening into the bedroom and piling onto the bed. “Good morning!” Amanda announced, pulling the covers back from her parents, who grumbled and pretended to still be asleep.

Olivia curled up in the middle of John and Mary, poking at John’s face. “Wake up, Uncle John! Wake up! We hafta go visit Mrs. Hudson!”

John opened one eye and peered at her, “Is it morning already?”

“Uh-huh!” said Olivia, “Amanda says it’s after SEVEN.”

“What would your Papa do if you woke him up?”

Will piped up from the foot of the bed, where he and Amanda were trying to tickle Mary’s feet. “He’d probably be in just his pants and trying to wrap himself up in the sheet!”

Amanda giggled at the idea of Uncle Sherlock in just his pants, and Olivia turned around to Mary. “Aunt Mary, when are we going to Speedy’s?”

Mary sat up, pulling Olivia into her lap. “Don’t poke Uncle John in the face, he doesn’t like that. And I will take you to Speedy’s once we’re all up and dressed and ready to go, but not before 8:30 because we don’t want to get to Mrs. Hudson’s too early and be rude.”

Olivia climbed off of Mary’s lap and slid down onto the floor. “I can get dressed!” she ran out of the room. Amanda and Will gave up trying to tickle Mary, who was far too fast for them, and grabbed the blankets they’d pulled off of Amanda’s parents and threw them over John and Mary’s heads. Giggling, they ran out of the room before the Watson’s could untangle themselves.

“See why I went to bed early?” said Mary, laughing. “I’m going to go get in the shower.”

The kids were dressed and Will had repacked his and Amanda’s bags by the time Mary came downstairs. Amanda had done a fairly decent job of putting Olivia’s long brown curls into a ponytail, and soon Mary was buckling them all into the car for the trip across town to Baker Street .

Breakfast a Speedy’s went about as well as it could with three small children, which is to say that they mostly talked and giggled, and maybe some food accidentally made it into them. The owner of Speedy’s was always excited to see the Holmes children, however, and came out to talk to them a little bit. Once they’d eaten enough to satisfy Aunt Mary, they were ushered back outside, where they argued over who got to push the doorbell. While they bickered, Mary leaned over and pressed it.

Mrs. Hudson was there in a flash. “Children!” she squealed, throwing open the door. “Come in come in oh my goodness when did you all get so big?!”

They children tumbled into the building and down the hall to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. She walked behind them with Mary, asking how things were going for her and John, and if everyone was well.

“Busy, very busy. Between work at the surgery and occasionally helping Sherlock, John definitely keeps busy. But it’s good for him. We all know he likes a little excitement.” She winked at Mrs. Hudson, who giggled.

By the time they made it inside, the kids had taken up spots on Mrs. Hudson’s sofa, and had already gotten into the tray of biscuits that just happened to be sitting out. “Not hungry for breakfast, but you’ll devour biscuits, I see.” laughed Mary.

“Oh, leave the poor dearies alone,” said Mrs. Hudson. “I know they NEVER get biscuits or any sorts of treats at home. I can tell these are very deprived children. I can’t imagine Sherlock Holmes ever keeps biscuits in his house, he would never eat biscuits.”

Her eyes twinkled as Will laughed, “Papa always hides the biscuits but I know where he keeps them.”

The kids told Mrs. Hudson stories of what they’d been up to that summer, and how they were not looking forward to school starting in the fall. After a little while they heard the front door open, and Sherlock came in, giving each of the kids a hug and Mary a kiss on the forehead before snagging three of the chocolate biscuits and pulling Mrs. Hudson out of her chair so he could give her a big hug. “Mrs. Hudson, hello! I hope these children aren’t talking your ear off!”

“Not at all!” said Mrs. Hudson, “Although I hear Will is getting very good at the violin, maybe next time he can bring his and play something for me. I miss having violin music in the house.”

Will preened at this, and promised that he would. Sherlock looked at his phone. “First client due in 15, gotta run. I’ll come get you kids once I’m done, shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”

Mary visited for a little while longer, but eventually it was time to get back to John, so she and Amanda said their goodbyes and left. Mrs. Hudson pulled out some coloring books she kept around for the kids and the three of them sat around the dining room table, coloring and chatting. Mrs. Hudson had no grandchildren of her own, but she might as well, between the Watsons and the Holmes. 

After coloring they moved on to watching a movie in the sitting room, and before they knew it, Sherlock was downstairs to collect them. 

“How were your clients today, Papa?”

“Dull,” said Sherlock. “Nothing even slightly difficult, but they’re all happy now - well, except for the man whose sister stole a bunch of money from him, but at least now he knows what happened - and so now we can head home.”

Olivia looked up at her Papa. “Can we go to the park first?”

Sherlock checked the time. “Certainly. Your mother is working for a little while longer anyway, we can go to the park.”

Sherlock walked out the door to Baker Street , one child holding onto each of his hands, their little backpacks on their backs. Mrs. Hudson stood in the doorway, watching them leave, smiling and shaking her head. Sherlock had certainly changed from the sullen man who had needed a place to stay, but she definitely had no complaints.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock sat in the sitting room, watching Will practice his violin. They’d picked out some new music for him earlier that summer, and he was working hard to master the slightly-harder sheet music. Will’s skill with the violin was no match for Sherlock’s at that age, but Sherlock knew that he had been a prodigy, and he was very careful to be patient with Will.

Will, however, was so eager to please Sherlock, and so eager to learn, that he often needed no encouragement or reminders to practice. He and Molly had actually been discussing whether or not they should get a different tutor for him, but so far Will had resisted the idea. “You can teach me, Papa!”

And so he had. Olivia was roughly the same age Will had been when he started, and he’d been meaning to bring it up to Olivia for a few weeks. Olivia had never shown any interest in the violin, however, and he wasn’t sure how it would go. Molly was worried he’d be disappointed if she didn’t want to learn, and he’d be lying if he said the idea wasn’t at least somewhat sad. Sherlock, however, also knew that Olivia wasn’t likely to do anything she didn’t want to do without being forced - she was her father’s daughter through and through in that respect. Forcing Olivia to learn the violin wouldn’t teach her any love of music, only resentment. 

Sherlock still remembered all the years of French lessons his mother had pushed on him, and how much he resented it for years. 

“Papa? I finished,” said Will, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Were you in your Mind Palace again?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, just wondering if it’s time to try to get your sister to learn to play your little violin.”

Will shrugged. “I don’t think she wants to.”

Sherlock sighed. “I think you’re right. But I really want her to learn something. Maybe I’ll talk to her later about music and see if anything interests her.”

“Did I do okay, Papa?”

“I’m sorry, Will. Yes, you sounded much better than last week, but you’re having a hard time with this one part.” Sherlock stood up and walked behind Will, flipping the sheet music back a page. “Start here.”, he pointed.

The lesson continued a little bit longer. Molly and Olivia had been out front, weeding the small flower beds on either side of the front porch. Well, Molly was weeding. Olivia was collecting a fine collection of earthworms she was finding in the soft, moist soil, and putting them into a bucket.

“Make sure you let those worms back out, Olivia, when we go back into the house. They can’t live in a bucket any more than you can.”

Olivia peered into the bucket. “They don’t have any food.”

“No,” said Molly, “And they need more than that. So it’s okay that you’re playing with them but they need to be free afterwards, okay?”

Olivia poked at her worms, picking one up and looking at it. “Do worms have a face, Mama?”

“Not like we do, no.” said Molly.

“What do worms eat?”

Molly smiled to herself. Will may be a budding detective, with his joy at playing deductions and expert skill at Cluedo, but Olivia was her little scientist.

“How about this, when we go back into the house we can go on the laptop and do some research about worms?”

“Okay, Mama!” said Olivia, putting the worm back in the bucket with the other ones. She watched them for a few more minutes, and then made a small hole in the dirt in the flowerbed and tipped the worms back out. “Go home, worms! Go back to your home!”

Molly stopped what she was doing to watch her young daughter. After Will, Olivia had almost seemed like a breath of fresh air. She could have her stubborn streaks, but she was so much more like her mother than Will ever had been. Molly could see so many of her positive traits in her - Olivia was compassionate, and eager to learn, and there wasn’t anything science-based she didn’t jump at the chance to learn.

Will was eager to please, but that was a different thing altogether. While Will excelled at things because he wanted to show off, or show that he could do something, Olivia loved learning for the sake of learning. Molly was secretly glad that Will was as much like Sherlock as he was, considering there was no biological connection, because other than her ringlet curls and tendancy to pout, Olivia was All Molly.

Molly was pretty sure Sherlock was secretly happy about that, however.

Molly finished the weeding and turned back to Olivia, who was now laying on her belly in the dirt, watching the worms she’d set free. She noticed Molly watching her. “They are going back home, Mama. I think their Papa is calling them.”

“You may be right,” said Molly, standing up and grabbing the bucket of weeds to take to the compost. “Time to go in and get washed up, though. You are covered in dirt. Go straight into your bathroom and I’ll run you a bath and get you some clean clothes.”

After a stop off to wash her own hands and drop the weeds into the compost, Molly went upstairs to find a naked Olivia sitting in the empty tub with several of her toys. “Hop out, dear one. I have to put the water in!”

She ran the bath and then went out into the hallway, poking her head into Will’s room to see what he was up to. She found him laying in bed, reading a book. “It’s a nice day, Will. You should go outside.”

 

He glanced up at her and then turned back to his book. Molly shook her head and went back to the bathroom, where Olivia was doing everything except getting clean. Molly kneeled next to the tub and got to work, scrubbing her little Mini Scientist clean.

Later that night, after dinner, Will was playing chess with Molly. Sherlock went upstairs to find Olivia in her room, her princess doll fighting off a dragon.

“Is the princess saving the day?” asked Sherlock, folding his long legs beneath him and sitting down next to his daughter.

“Yup. He’s a mean, mean dragon and he stole all the gold and the Princess is going to get it back!”

Sherlock watched her for a few minutes. “So, Olivia,” he said. “You’re about the same age Will was when I gave him his first violin.”

Olivia scrunched up her face and turned to look at Sherlock. “Uh-huh.”

“Would you like to learn how to play violin, Olivia?”

Olivia set down her princess doll and flung herself backwards on the floor, laying down and staring up at her father, who looked down at her. “No.”

“Why not?” asked Sherlock gently.

“Don’t like violin. Don’t like the music. Will plays ALL THE TIME, and so do you.”

Sherlock nodded. “Will and I enjoy playing violin. We like learning how to make music.”

Olivia rolled over onto her belly, her chin propped up in her hands. “I like music.”

“But not violin music?”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t want to play violin. Is there something else?”

Sherlock shrugged. “There are many, many instruments, but the only one I can teach you is violin. If you want to play something else, we’ll have to find you a teacher.”

Olivia sat up, leaning against her father. “Does that make you sad, Papa?”

Sherlock looked down at his daughter, who gazed up at him with her mother’s chocolate brown eyes. “Sad? No. Maybe a little disappointed. I enjoy teaching Will violin and I’d enjoy teaching you. But there’s no point in forcing someone to learn something they don’t want to learn. It’s only fun if you enjoy it.” He paused for a minute. “But let me know if you change your mind?”

Olivia nodded, and handed the stuffed dragon to her Papa. “Be the dragon, Papa! You have a good dragon voice!”

Sherlock raised the dragon up in the air, making it swoop down toward the princess doll Olivia had picked back up. “You can’t have my GOLD!” he boomed. 

Olivia held the small sword in one hand, pretending the doll was swinging it at the dragon. “Go away, evil dragon! You can’t take things that don’t belong to you!”

“I took the gold, so it belongs to me!” bellowed Sherlock, making the dragon swoop down at the sword.  
They played until it was Olivia’s bedtime, and Sherlock saw to teeth and pyjamas, and then they read a story, and he kissed her good night. “I’ll send Mama up to kiss you.” he promised, and she sleepily smiled at him.

 

That night, Sherlock and Molly were curled up in bed. Molly had been thumbing through a medical journal, and Sherlock was, as always, thumbing through his phone. After a few minutes, he set the phone down. “Well, Olivia told me she doesn’t want to learn violin today.”

Molly set the journal down in her lap and turned to Sherlock. “Are you okay with that?”

Sherlock frowned. “I had been looking forward to it, so I’m disappointed, definitely. But I know what it’s like to be forced to learn something. It’s one thing if it’s school and you need to, but this is supposed to be fun. Maybe she’ll find an instrument as she gets older. Maybe she’ll like to sing.”

Molly pulled a face. “Have you HEARD her sing? She’s got my tone-deafness!”

Sherlock leaned over and kissed her. “She’s got a lot of you. Nothing wrong with that.”

“We have raised some pretty amazing kids, haven’t we?” said Molly. “Who’d have thought?”

Sherlock laughed at this. “Certainly not me! I never imagined I’d have any children, much less two, and I certainly never imagined they’d be the intelligent, fun, loving children I have.”

Molly grinned. “They’re good kids. I think I’ll keep em.”

Laughing, Sherlock leaned in to kiss his wife again. “And I think I’ll keep you.”

“Deal,” said Molly, before sliding down onto the bed and pulling her husband over her.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock was returning from a walk to the shops with the children when he stopped on the pavement outside their townhouse. Will stumbled, then looked up. “What’s wrong, Papa?”

Sherlock sighed. “Uncle Mycroft is here, and he’s let himself in again despite me asking him repeatedly not to do that.”

Will glanced over at Olivia, who was busy watching a squirrel run around in in a tree. “How come you and Uncle Mycroft don’t get along?”

Sherlock looked down at him, “Imagine if me and your Mama had a baby right now. So, say you were 13 when that baby was Olivia’s age. How much fun do you think a 4 year old is when you’re 13?”

Will thought about this, “Not very?”

“And imagine that you don’t like people very much to begin with, and suddenly you have a younger brother who wants to be just like you, so he follows you everywhere and asks tons of questions and wants to know what you’re doing. And say you’re busy trying to HIDE what you’re doing from your parents.”

Will smiled, “So you tattled on him a lot?”

Sherlock sniffed. “Of course not. It was in my best interest to get him to bribe me into being quiet.”

They laughed at this, and Sherlock looked up at the door. “Well, there’s no avoiding it. Let’s go see what Uncle Mycroft wants.” 

The children walked in the door ahead of him. Mycroft sat primly on the chair next to the fireplace, his ubiquitous umbrella leaning against the chair. 

“Sherlock,” he said.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock responded.

Olivia, who had inherited none of her father’s ability to read people, climbed up into Mycroft’s lap before he could react. “Hi, Uncle Mycroft! We went for a walk!”

Mycroft moved his arms around uncertainly before putting them on the arms of the chair, staring down at the young girl sitting across his lap. “So you did. Did you see anything interesting?”

Olivia thought for a moment “There’s a squirrel in the tree outside. And that red car was outside of Mrs. Moore’s house again.” She leaned up and whispered in Mycroft’s ear “Mr. Moore’s car is blue.”

Mycroft glanced over at Sherlock, who laughed, “Olivia, that’s their cleaning lady’s car, but nice deduction.”

Olivia shrugged, “Mama is at work. Are you staying for dinner? Did you bring me anything? Papa said you went to America last week. Did you go to Disney World?”

Mycroft waited until the barrage of questions ended, while Sherlock took a seat on the sofa and watched with interest. Will went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

Mycroft watched his niece. “Your mother will be home from work in an hour. No, I’m not staying for dinner. Yes, I brought you something, but heavens no I didn’t go to Disney World. It’s full of ….people.”

Sherlock chuckled. “You say people like most people say “spiders”.”

Mycroft glared at him, “There was a time you’d agree with me.”

Sherlock shrugged. “There’s still times I agree with you.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and reached over on the other side of the chair, grabbing a bag Olivia hadn’t noticed. “This is for you. It’s come to my attention that you’re quite the scientist, and I figured you could use one of your own.” 

Olivia hopped off Mycroft’s lap and looked into the bag. “My own MICROSCOPE?” she said, squealing. She pulled the box out of the bag. “Look, Papa!”

Sherlock nodded, “That’s a very nice microscope. Perhaps tonight your mother could help you set it up after dinner.”

Olivia dove back onto Mycroft’s lap again, smiling. “Thank you Uncle Mycroft, THANK YOU!”

“Of course,” said Mycroft, patting her on the head nervously, as if she were a small dog that might bite. “Anything to encourage my niece.”

Will had come back into the kitchen during all this. “Wow, Olivia, that’s really nice!”

“I have something for you, too,” said Mycroft, producing a second bag. Will set down his water and went over, taking it gently from Mycroft. “Thank you, Uncle Mycroft.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a large case. 

He set it down on the coffee table and opened it. “A new violin? Thank you so much!” He did not rush over to hug Mycroft, knowing that his uncle preferred to be thanked from afar. 

“Your father told me you were getting ready for the next size up, so I thought it was the least I could do. Please take care of it, like you have your others.”

“Of course, Uncle Mycroft,” said Will, gently lifting it out of the case. He admired it, and then put it away carefully.

Sherlock watched all this quietly. He knew that Mycroft cared, he was just so different in the way he showed it. It bothered Mycroft that he cared, something Sherlock understood completely. In the months before Molly had gotten pregnant, that’s how he’d felt about her. He worried about her, looked in after her, kept the Homeless Network watching her flat - but it made him angry that he cared. It had taken time, so much time, but he’d gotten there eventually. Maybe Mycroft would, too. He didn’t like the idea of his brother spending the rest of his life alone, but he recognized that it was Mycroft’s choice, and he needed to stay out of it. Goodness knows he hated when Mycroft meddled in his life.

Mycroft visited with the children for a bit longer until he finally sent them off to play, insisting that he needed to talk to their father. Sherlock smiled at him, a wolfish grin. “So we’re finally going to get to the reason you’re here, bribing my children?”

Mycroft smiled his tight-lipped smile and reached alongside the chair once again, pulling out a manilla folder and placing it on the coffee table in front of Sherlock. “I have an assignment for you.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and opened the folder, scanning the contents. “Nope.” he said, closing it again. “You know I won’t be away from my family that long. Two weeks is my maximum and there’s absolutely no way I’m doing three.”

Mycroft sighed theatrically. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “It’s very...lucrative.” he said.

Sherlock pushed the folder across the table towards Mycroft. “We’re fine. I don’t need your money.”

“England’s money, but who’s counting,” said Mycroft under his breath. He picked up the folder, flipping through the contents. “It’s easy enough. We probably don’t even need you to do it.”

“Great!” said Sherlock standing up, “Then you can easily find someone else, and I’ll be here with my kids helping women nail their philandering husbands and occasionally solving a murder, and home in time for bedtime and stories. Thanks for dropping by, the kids love their presents, please come again when you can’t stay so long.”

He walked to the door, waiting for Mycroft to stand and walk through it. Mycroft continued to sit. “Goodbye, Mycroft.”

“Hear me out.” said Mycroft, exasperated. “I realize three weeks is a long time, but you’ll be back before the children go to Mummy and Father’s for their week, so you won’t lose any alone time with Molly, and you’ll have done some good for the world, and there’ll be a nice check to cash. Buy Molly something nice for being alone with the children for so long.”

Sherlock slumped, and walked back over to the sofa, snatching the file out of Mycroft’s hands as he walked by. “I don’t need to bribe my wife to parent her children. It’s just harder for one of us, and it’s almost always her that’s alone with them. They’re Holmes children, Mycroft. You can understand.”

Mycroft shuddered. “And people wonder why I had no interest in having any of my own. Your children are lovely in small doses but I couldn’t stand to be around children when I was one, and children like us?” He shook his head.

“Well, they’re not like us, of course,” said Sherlock. “They’re half Molly. So they have some sense of decorum. Some.”

Mycroft grinned at this, quickly wiping it off his face. He stood, collecting his umbrella. “Keep the file, look it over, discuss it with Molly. No one else, of course. I need an answer by Friday.”

He walked to the door, turning to Sherlock. “I don’t ask you to do these to make your life difficult. I ask because I know with two growing children, the money is helpful. Keep that in mind.”

Sherlock waved him away, head buried in the file. He hated when Mycroft got sappy, how on earth was he supposed to deal with that? 

He was still thumbing through it when Molly got home. She saw him sitting there, and came over. “America? Three weeks?” she said after reading through the material.

“We have until Friday to decide,” he said, closing the folder. “Let’s talk about it after the kids go to bed.”

They did discuss it later, going over the details and the amount of danger it appeared Sherlock would be in (minimal) while also checking Molly’s schedule for the next couple of weeks. Mrs. Hudson would have to be called, could she watch the children a couple days a week? This would be a lot easier if it were during the school term.

By Friday, details had been worked out. Molly had some vacation time coming, between that, Mrs. Hudson, and John and Mary taking the children on random days off during the three week period they should be able to keep things going at home. It wouldn’t be easy, but Molly had to agree that the payoff was substantial enough to justify it. “It’ll be nice to have a week off while the children are out of school,” she had said Wednesday night. “We can do all the museums and such around town that we never find the time to do.”

That made Sherlock remember the first time he’d ever taken Will anywhere alone. Will was two, and they’d gone to the science museum for the day, and then Molly had cooked them both dinner. The night had ended with him kissing her and then fleeing her apartment, but it had all worked out in the end.

Mycroft arrived at Baker Street early in the afternoon on Friday. After stopping in to visit Mrs. Hudson and the children, he went upstairs to where Sherlock was pacing. 

“Have you made a decision, little brother?” he said from the doorway.

“Yes. I’ll do it. But it’s causing a significant amount of stress, what with the children home for the summer term.”

Mycroft shrugged, “Next summer send them to camp all summer, problem solved.”

Sherlock stopped, and looked at him. “It really is that easy for you to just dispose of people who are in your way, isn’t it?”

Mycroft shrugged. “I’ll be in touch. You leave Monday.”

He turned and left. Sherlock shook his head. All these years, and he never felt like he understood Mycroft any better than he did when they were children. Maybe even less so.

Sherlock got the children off to school on Monday morning, promising he’d text as much as he could while he was gone. He was off to America, to New York City, specifically, and Will was very envious. By the time he got back from the school run, a long black car was waiting outside their townhouse. Sighing, Sherlock got in, knowing that everything he needed for the mission would be provided to him, and if he went back in the house he’d just have second (and third, and fourth) thoughts about doing this in the first place.

Mycroft was in the back seat, and he handed a folder to Sherlock. In it were all the paperwork he’d need for his cover story.

“We need you to trail the suspect. Keep your distance, but keep an eye on him. Try to find any proof that he’s part of the group that’s been planning these attacks. When you get there, our contacts there will give you a mobile to use to contact us if you need anything for your cover - if he goes to a show, you need to go. If he attends a party, we need to find a way to get you close. Do not engage with him at first, until we have some more information about his comings and goings. Once we want you to try to get closer, we’ll tell you.

Sherlock glanced through the paperwork - passport, back story, all the usual stuff for when he’s undercover. He nodded.

“We’ll go to my office where we’ll get you outfitted in your cover clothing, give you your bags, and your flight leaves this afternoon. You can keep your personal mobile but keep it out of sight. Only use it when you’re alone in your hotel room. Keep it silent.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stared out the window. Why did Mycroft have to act like every time he did this was the first time?

Molly, meanwhile, was trying to keep herself occupied at work. It wasn’t that she didn’t have stuff to do, of course. But the first few days Sherlock was gone were always hard on her, especially when they were Mycroft missions, where she knew he’d be in more danger than usual. She snapped at a few interns during the day, and reminded herself that she needed to apologize when they came in in the morning.

By the time she picked the kids up from school she’d managed to put her Brave Strong Mom Face on, and she announced that they were going to Angelo’s for dinner as a treat, since they were all missing Sherlock already. Angelo took good care of them, especially when Molly told him Sherlock was out of town for work, and the kids were very happy with the extra large portions of gelato he brought out to them without asking.

The flight to New York was long and boring as usual, and Sherlock spent most of it reading on his mobile, where Mycroft had sent all the information in digital form. Luckily his seatmate on the plane wasn’t the chatty sort, so that helped. Sherlock was already under cover and would have been charming and friendly as Robert Simmons, glass and marble salesman, but that didn’t mean he particularly wanted to be.

Customs went smoothly - Mycroft pulled strings well when he needed to, and everything was as perfectly above-board as a fake passport could be. Sherlock wasn’t even sure it was actually fake - it could be official, just a different name, knowing Mycroft’s “minor position” in the British Government. 

A driver met him at the baggage claim and took his bag for him and drove him to the hotel they’d put him up in. He got settled into the room and texted Molly that he’d arrived. It was already Tuesday night in London and Molly had just gotten dinner on the table for the kids. She passed along their messages of love, and then he put the phone away and got to work. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could go home. Mycroft had estimated three weeks, but Sherlock was convinced he could do it faster.

The first week went by fairly calmly, as far as the Holmes household was concerned. Mrs. Hudson cooked dinner for Molly and the children on Wednesday, and Thursday, Mary picked them up from her early in the afternoon after her shift finished. Molly met them at the Watsons’ house for dinner and then took the children home to take care of Faraday and get ready for another day.

Sherlock wandered the streets of New York. There were times he was following his mark, but other times his mark would disappear into his flat - apartment - for hours and his contact would text Sherlock that he was free to explore and they’d let him know if the mark left again. During these times Sherlock wandered Manhattan, never going far. He wondered what the children would think of NYC. He knew Molly had been there when she was in university, on a trip with some girlfriends. He stood outside Rockefeller Center and gazed up at the tall building.

Friday night his mark had tickets for a play, so tickets to the play were delivered to Sherlock via courier. Sherlock wasn’t quite sure what the point of a musical about the American Revolution was, in this day and age, but was surprised to see that it was not only almost entirely in hip hop/rap music, but that it was performed by all performers of color. It was fresh and new, and Sherlock enjoyed the show immensely, when he wasn’t keeping an eye on his assignment.

The next week Molly took off work. She and the children had planned out their entire week, taking day trips all over the city. The children loved having all day with their Mama, and it took a little bit of the sting of Sherlock being gone away, although there were some tears from Olivia mid-week at bedtime. During their next text conversation she told Sherlock, who sent Olivia some silly pictures of her Papa to cheer her up, which it did.

Week three was another mix of Mrs. Hudson and the Watsons, although Molly was thrilled when Sherlock texted on Tuesday that he’d be back mid-afternoon on Thursday, and not the weekend like they’d expected. She told the children, who really were at the end of their ropes at being Papa-less, and they were as excited as you’d expect.

Molly dropped them off with Mrs. Hudson that morning. The plan was as soon as Mycroft was done debriefing Sherlock he’d have him dropped off at Baker Street and he could see the children immediately.

Which meant that the moment the outside door to Baker Street opened, Olivia FLEW off the chair she was sitting in at Mrs. Hudson’s and ran full tilt into the hallway, almost knocking her father over. Will came out behind her, a little more shyly, and soon there was a happy reunion happening in the hall. Mrs. Hudson stood in her doorway watching them, more happy for Sherlock than she could remember being. She was so proud of the man he’d become and the children he’d raised.

The car that had brought Sherlock to Baker Street took the three of them home, a treat Will was very excited about. He bounced around in the back of the limousine, while Olivia spent the entire trip curled up in her Papa’s arms, unwilling to let him go.

The three of them were piled on the sofa listening to stories of Sherlock’s adventures in New York (and the recipients of a few gifts that he’d managed to pick up after his mission was done) when Molly came home from Barts. She fell into the pile of people on the sofa and the four of them talked and laughed and tickled and snuggled until finally Sherlock announced that someone needed to order dinner. 

“Please don’t do that again,” said Molly that night as they curled up in bed, becoming reaquainted. Sherlock leaned in and kissed her soundly.

“I won’t. That was a mistake. It wasn’t even dangerous, I just have no desire to be gone that long again and there’s no amount of money Mycroft can offer me to make it worth it.”

Molly frowned. “Well, I’m sure there is….”

They both laughed. Sherlock kissed her again. “Nope. No amount.”


	6. Chapter 6

Will stood in the doorway to Olivia’s room, watching her stare at the pile of stuffed animals on her bed. “Hurry UP Olivia! Papa says we’re ready to leave and everyone’s waiting on you!”

Olivia turned around to glare at her brother, and then turned back to her bed. She reached down and picked up a stuffed rabbit, turned, then turned back around and dropped it, grabbing a stuffed bear. “Okay, this one.”

“Don’t know why you need more. You already packed your dragon. How many stuffed animals do you need for two weeks at Granny and Grandpa’s house?”

Olivia sighed and pushed past him and down the stairs. “I’m ready!” she yelled. Molly and Sherlock stood at at the door, each holding a bag for one of the children. Will’s violin case sat at Sherlock’s feet.

“Finally,” said Sherlock. “Where’s your brother?”

Will came down the stairs. “I’m right here, let’s go!”

Molly ushered both of the children out the door, then followed Sherlock out. “You’d think he’s excited or something,” she laughed. She locked the door behind them, and they loaded the bags into the boot of the car and got everyone settled in for the drive out to the countryside. 

Every summer, Will spent two weeks with Sherlock’s parents out in the countryside. This would be the first year Olivia went; she was finally doing okay with being away from Sherlock and Molly for a longer period of time.

Molly had been nervous about sending Olivia, but she and Sherlock had decided not to do any traveling of their own while they were gone. That way, if they needed to go pick up Olivia they’d be available. 

But Olivia showed no nervousness about the trip at all, stuffie indecision notwithstanding. She loved her Gram and Grandpa, and looked forward to seeing them. They hadn’t seen them since Will’s birthday in February, and five months is a lifetime to a four year old.

Soon they were driving up the winding path to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes the elder’s brick cottage. The moment Sherlock and Molly opened up the car doors, belts were unbuckled and the children tumbled out of the car, running at top speed towards the couple standing in the doorway.

Violet and Siger Holmes never expected to be grandparents. By the time Sherlock came to them to ask if he could pass down his baby furniture to a friend who was unexpectedly pregnant, both of their sons were settled into lives that didn’t involve romantic attachments, much less children. 

Violet had been content that her son had seemed to get a handle on his substance abuse. She was proud that he’d achieved some notoriety for his detective work, and had a group of friends around him that seemed to be keeping him on the straight and narrow. She knew that he’d been spending more time around Molly Hooper and the baby since he’d been born, but she hadn’t fully understood what was happening for the longest time. She began to suspect around the time Will was about a year old.

When he told her Molly Hooper and her young son were moving in with him, Violet was overcome with joy. She’d been watching from afar, trying not to get involved, but it was clear to her from the start that Sherlock had feelings for Molly. She just didn’t think he’d ever figure out what to do about them.

Almost nine years later, here they were. The wedding and addition of Olivia had just made her son’s life that much more full and happy. She still worried about Mycroft, who continued to insist that he didn’t need anyone, and was certainly not interested in being “domesticated” like his little brother. 

Well, if he said he was happy, she had no reason not to believe him. In the meantime, she had two wonderful grandchildren to spoil rotten, which she would begin doing the moment her son and daughter in law were on their way.

Sherlock carried the children’s bags in and placed them in the bedrooms. He still thought of them as “his” and “Mycroft’s” even though they’d never really lived here. His parents had moved out to the country when he’d started at University, and the next few years after that he’d mostly either been in rehab or in London at school. Mycroft was already out on his own, but he stayed in the other room during the times he’d visited.

Sherlock had stayed there after his final stint in rehab, before he’d moved back to London and gotten involved with NSY and Greg Lestrade. He sighed, thinking about everything he’d put his parents through during his rough years. He knew he should sit them down and thank them for everything they’d put up with. They’d never acted like he was a burden, or a problem. He thought about Will and Olivia, and for the first time, he really realized why his parents had been so patient with him. If Will or Olivia found themselves in some sort of bad situation, of course he’d move heaven and earth for them. That’s what parents did. 

When he made it back to the kitchen, everyone was sitting around the table. Tea was laid out for the adults, and the kids each had a glass of milk He sat down next to Molly and sipped at his tea, as he listened to his father talk.

“Sherlock was such a good boy. He’d play out in the yard for hours with Redbeard, always making up adventures. I think most of the time he was a pirate.”

Sherlock blushed. “Most of the time. Sometimes one of Sir Arthur’s Knights.”

Will looked up. Molly had been reading him bits of TH White’s The Once and Future King before bed. “Gawain? Galahad?”

Sherlock smiled. “Oh, I was always Sherlock. Who better to be?” he winked at Will, who giggled and took another drink of his milk.

“I like when Papa is a DRAGON!” piped up Olivia. “He has a great dragon voice. Do your dragon voice, Papa!”

“Oh, please do,” said Violet Holmes, trying to resist the grin that moved across her face. Living so far away, she really hadn’t had an opportunity to see Sherlock as a parent.

Sherlock demurred, but Olivia insisted, so he finally leaned over to her, and growled “I am fire! I am death!”

Everyone laughed, and then Olivia said “And then the Princess kills the evil dragon and saves the whole town the end!”

“That’s a powerful princess!” remarked Siger. 

The six of them spent the afternoon together, and Violet cooked up a nice supper for them. When it was time to leave, Olivia was a little teary, but Violet hugged her tight and reminded her of all the fun she’d had when they whole family had spent weekends up here. “You’ll have a great time. Me and Grandpa will keep you so busy you won’t even know where the time went!”

They had a quiet evening, Will showing Siger how much better at chess he’d gotten. “Tomorrow, you’ll have to play some violin for me,” said Violet. “I always loved listening to your father play.”

Olivia scrunched up her face. Siger saw it and winked at her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’ve never been a fan of the violin either. Maybe tomorrow we’ll go for a walk down to the lake.”

Olivia smiled at the idea of getting to spend some one on one time with her grandpa.

Soon enough, it was time to tuck the children into bed. Olivia had all her stuffies with her, and Violet gave her a kiss goodnight. “Grandpa and I are right next door if you need anything, okay sweetheart?”

Olivia nodded, yawning. “I’ll be okay Grammy.”

The next day, Olivia was up with the sun. Luckily, Violet was up before her, and the two of them had a quiet breakfast together. When Will finally made it into the kitchen, Violet and Olivia were going through old photo albums. “Look, Will!” she said when she saw him, “It’s Uncle Mycroft in JEANS!”

That got Will’s attention. He came over and stood behind Olivia’s chair. “How old was he, Grammy? I thought Uncle Mycroft wore little suits when he was a little boy.”

Violet chuckled. “In this picture? He’s seven, because those are pictures from the day we brought your Papa home from the hospital. Your Uncle Mycroft wasn’t very excited about having a brother, as you can see.”

“They looked at the photos. There were a few of Mycroft sitting on a large sofa, the swaddled baby Sherlock in his lap. He refused to smile for the camera.

“He looks like you just put a giant slug in his lap and made him hold it,” said Will, laughing.

“He came around, though. He left for boarding school when he was twelve, and your Papa was five, and although he’ll never admit it, his first phone call home was about how much he missed Sherlock.

“Papa says he didn’t like going away to school,” said Will. Violet nodded. “Your Papa didn’t like school in general. He loved learning, but being told what to study was not his favorite thing. Both my boys were so smart, and we were just trying to do what was best for them.”

Violet got up to fix Will a plate as Olivia kept looking through the photos. “Redbeard!” she exclaimed, coming across a picture of Sherlock and a large English Setter.

“Yes, your father and Redbeard were inseparable. He missed Mycroft, too, so we thought we’d get him a dog to keep him company.”

“I wish we could get a dog,” said Will from the other side of the table. “When I was little we had a cat, but he died, and Mama was so sad she didn’t want another one.”

Siger came into the room just thing. “You should ask your parents. You’re both older now, and capable of helping to take care of a dog. I know Sherlock likes dogs.”

Soon they were all sitting around the table, passing around photo albums as the kids asked questions about their father and Uncle Mycroft, and what it was like when they were small children. Since Molly’s parents had both died before Will was born, they had no one to ask these sorts of things about their Mama, but Grammy and Grampa were a treasure trove of embarrassing stories about their Papa and Uncle Mycroft, and they were always game to hear them, and tease Sherlock about them later.

“Grammy, do you want me to play violin for you now?” asked Will, once all the albums had safely been put away in the den.

“That’s our cue to go for a walk!” said Siger to Olivia. She giggled, and the two of them slipped outside, walking down the path through the back garden, hand in hand.

They reached a small stream, and Siger led Olivia over to a small bench. “This is where I come to sit and watch the water,” said Siger. “It’s so peaceful, and sometimes I can see animals.”

Olivia watched the water. “Did Papa come here when he was a little boy?”

Siger shook his head, “We didn’t move here until your Papa went off to University, so he only ever visited here. He stayed here in the summers between terms, and for a little bit after he left school, but when he was little we lived in London.” Left unsaid was the times Sherlock had stayed there after coming out of rehab. Siger shook his head, dispelling those memories. Sherlock had come so far, those days were so far in the past they weren’t even worth dwelling on.

Olivia sat for a few moments before her curiosity got the better of her, and she slipped off the bench to kneel down in the dirt, looking at the different plants. “Can I pick these flowers, grandpapa?” 

Siger smiled at his granddaughter. “You may pick any of those wildflowers you want.”

Olivia wandered around the area, picking and choosing which flowers to bring back to the house. After a little while, she ran back over to where Siger sat, and showed them to him. “I picked the yellow ones because Mama likes yellow, and the purple ones because I like purple. What color does Granny like?”

“Blue,” said Siger. 

Olivia looked down at the flowers in her hands and frowned. “I didn’t see any blue ones.”

Siger stood, taking her small hand in his. “I know where there’s some blue ones. Let’s follow this path along the river.”

When they made it back to the house, the violin concert was over, and she presented a bouquet of flowers to her grandmother, who dutifully found a vase and placed them in the center of the dining room table. “Perfect,” said Violet.

The days with the Holmes rolled by. Some days they went on adventures, going into the small town nearby for shopping or visiting with the Holmes’ friends. Some days the children played amongst themselves in the large back garden, and Will played many games of chess with both of his grandparents. Olivia learned how much her Granny loved to bake, and almost every night, there was a new dessert for the family to eat. A week after they arrived, Sherlock called to check on them.

“Hi, Papa!” said Will, when Violet handed him the phone. “We’re having so much fun here!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Sherlock. “Are you behaving?”

“Yes, Papa. We got to visit a restaurant that Grandpapa’s friend owns, and they let us see what the kitchen looks like. And I have been practicing my violin, and Olivia has been baking…”

“I want to tell him!” whined Olivia from next to him.

“Is Olivia doing okay being away from home?”

“Yes, Papa. Sometimes she’s sad at night but I let her sleep in my room when she’s sad, and then she’s okay.”

“You are a very good big brother. Do you mind giving Mycroft some pointers next time you see him?”

Will laughed at this, and they chatted for a few more minutes before he handed the phone over to Olivia, who told Sherlock all about the adventures she’d been having. After a while, Molly got on the phone, and then Olivia handed it back to Will so he could talk to his mother.

“Okay, Will. We’ll be there on Saturday to pick you two up. Please make sure you aren’t leaving messes for your grandparents to clean up, and mind your manners, and make sure you take a shower, and…”

Will held the phone away from his ear, rolling his eyes. Siger noticed and chuckled softly. Violet leaned over and playfully swatted his arm. “Don’t encourage him, he’s too much like his father already!” Siger laughed, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Okay, Mama,” said Will. “I’ll see you on Saturday! Love you!”

The rest of the week flew by. The last night, after the children were in bed, Siger and Violet sat in the den, having a nightcap and reflecting on their two weeks.

“I was kind of nervous having them both here. They’re so high energy and we’re not as young as we used to be.” said Siger.

Violet nodded, “We never had two that close in age, either. By the time Sherlock was Olivia’s age, Mycroft was 11 going on 19.”

They both had a laugh at that. “I’m so glad Sherlock has his family, though. I worried about him for so long,” said Siger, staring at a photo of a teenage Sherlock on the wall. “I never thought he’d find anywhere in the world he fit in, but he has such good friends in John and Mary, and Lestrade, and Molly...oh, that Molly is a saint.”

Violet nodded in agreement. “She’s good for him. But I can tell he’s good for her, too. With her parents both gone, she was alone for a long time. They’ve made an excellent family.”

Saturday morning found the children freshly bathed and packed and ready to go. When Molly and Sherlock came in the door, they were seated around the kitchen table, playing a game of Snakes and Ladders. “I’m winning, Papa!” said Olivia proudly.

Sherlock’s parents stood to hug both of them. “I’m sad to see the children go!” said Violet. “They’ve been such a joy to have. But I am a bit tired..” 

Sherlock grinned, looking down at the children. “My children? Ran you ragged? Shocking!”

They all got a good laugh at that. 

Sherlock loaded their things into the car while the kids finished up their game. After some tea and visiting, they all headed back to London. Molly and Sherlock had enjoyed their break, but were very anxious to have their children home. The house had seemed entirely too quiet in their absence. 

The drive back was a boisterous affair, with the children telling them all about their visit, and otherwise filling in a week’s worth of being away into a two hour car ride. Molly thought there wasn’t any better sound in the world. Sherlock, who was driving, disagreed slightly.


	7. Chapter 7

After an extremely busy morning (two autopsies, one with Sherlock, John and Greg breathing down her neck to finish it for a case they were working on), Molly was relieved to have a few moments in her office to deal with paperwork. She slipped out of her lab coat and dropped into her desk chair, toeing off her shoes and blowing on the cup of tea she’d just made. She had no doubt that there’d be more chaos soon, but at the moment the children were safely tucked away with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock was off being Sherlock, and she had at least an hour before she needed to be back in the morgue.

So, she reached for the bin of mail she’d been avoiding for two days.

A couple of different medical journals, which reminded her that she needed to get moving on the article she was working on. She hadn’t published nearly enough since Olivia was born. Spending extra time in the lab or researching just hadn’t been her first priority. Part of her was concerned about this, but the other part just sort of shrugged. Part of having choices was being able to choose, right? 

Payment for some independent work she’d done. She slide the cheque into her purse and made a mental note to get it deposited. A few other work-related things, and then a regular sized envelope, made out to Molly Hooper at her work address.

She frowned, and slid it open.

Molly,

I know it must come as a shock to hear from me, nine years later. I can’t even be sure that this note will find it’s way to you - I’m only assuming you’re still at Barts.

I’m not writing because I want anything - well, nothing from you, really. I’m mostly writing this for my own peace of mind. In the intervening years since I last spoke with you, I’ve married a lovely woman, and after some long soul-searching on my part, we’re expecting our first child this winter.

It’s made me think a lot about you and your pregnancy, of course.

I wanted to apologize for doing you (and our-no, YOUR child) wrong. I don’t know if you carried the pregnancy to term, I don’t know if you kept the baby. I don’t even know if the child was a boy or a girl. But know that I regret the choice I made so suddenly and so rashly. I should have called, I should have followed up, I should have done a million things other than hang up the phone that day and delete your number.

I hope the years have been good to you, and I hope you’re happy. I’m including some general family health information, in case you did keep the child. I owe him or her that much, at least. 

Please understand I don’t mean to upset the life you’ve built for yourself. However, if you’d like to contact me, the return address on this envelope is a mailbox I’m renting, and I’ll check it regularly.

Again, I wish you all the best, and I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.

Kevin

Molly dropped the letter onto her desk, closing her eyes and taking some deep breaths. Will’s biological father? After all these years? She’d called to tell him she was pregnant, and he’d basically told her he wasn’t interested in being a father, but if she insisted on going after him for support, of course he’d do what was required of him.

Molly had chosen not to list a father on the birth certificate at all, a choice that made things much simpler when Sherlock adopted Will. (Molly figured Mycroft could have worked around that, too, but it hadn’t been necessary.) 

She folded the letter up and put it into her handbag, and got back to going through the mail. Later that afternoon she texted Sherlock, asking if he’d be home that evening. He said he expected to.

Somehow, Molly got through her day. She swung by Baker Street and picked up the children, who were still with Mrs. Hudson while Sherlock worked his case. Mrs. Hudson was happy to see her, but could tell she was distracted. The children were off putting on shoes when Mrs. Hudson pulled her into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, dearie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Molly chuckled at this. “Something like that, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for your concern, but I’d like to talk to Sherlock about this first, if you don’t mind.”

“I understand completely, Molly dear. You just let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Of course,” said Molly, hugging the older woman. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you through the years. I know it’s harder and harder to keep up with the children as they get older.”

“You mean as I get older,” she said, winking. “I’m doing okay. But thank you.”

Molly headed home with the children, enlisting their help with getting dinner on the table. Having the chaos in the kitchen kept her mind off the conversation she was going to have to have later.

Sherlock came in as they were putting dinner on the table, and the four of them ate, the children recounting their adventures with Mrs. Hudson on day that was just supposed to be Sherlock taking some simple cases up in Baker Street . The moment they’d got there, however, Lestrade had called and Sherlock was off, John joining him later.

Sherlock gave them a very edited version of the case and what the solution had been, and Molly told them about helping at Barts.

Eventually dinner was cleaned up, Olivia was bathed and into bed, and Sherlock was reading with Will. Molly poured herself a glass of wine, and tried to lose herself in the book she was reading. After a chapter had been read and discussed, Sherlock said goodnight to Will, and made his way downstairs to where Molly waited.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he said, coming into the room.

Molly looked up at him questioningly. 

“First, you haven’t had a glass of wine in weeks. Second, you’ve been distracted all night. Third, even if I weren’t Sherlock Holmes, we’ve been involved for far too long for me not to know when something is wrong.

Molly nodded, stood, and retrieved the letter from her pocketbook, shoving it into Sherlock’s hands before sitting back down and taking another drink of her wine.

“It came in today’s mail,” she said simply.

Sherlock read it as he made his way over to the sofa, sitting down next to Molly. When he finished, he refolded it and placed it back in the envelope, and set it on the coffee table.

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said, leaning back into the couch cushions. 

“Yeah.” said Molly. “I mean, he’s not asking for anything.”

“Which is good,” said Sherlock. “Will has never even asked about his biological father. He knows where babies come from. We’ve always been ready to tell him the truth when he asks. But he hasn’t asked.”

Molly nodded, “I don’t want to bring this stuff up to him until he’s ready. He knows he can ask us anything. That’s how the baby questions got asked in the first place.”

Sherlock nodded. “I’ll have Mycroft look into him. See if he’s telling the truth about himself. See if he’s trustworthy. At some point, Will will ask, and I want to be able to tell him something, you know?”

“Right,” said Molly. She took the letter and handed it to Sherlock. “Can you put this in the safe at Baker Street ? And see what Mycroft can find, and then we can decide our next step. I’d like to answer the letter, at least tell him I did have the baby? And that we appreciate the medical information?”

“We’ll work on a return letter together, once Mycroft digs around. I have no problem with him knowing that the child is loved and happy and has a family who adores him.”

The two of them spent the rest of the evening in quiet companionable silence. Molly returned to her novel, and Sherlock started out answering some easy emails from potential clients, and then moved on to the laptop, where he worked on some research he was doing about the death of honeybees being observed worldwide.

By the time the two of them made their way up to bed, they were both feeling a lot better about the disruption to their lives. They knew that no matter what life threw at them, their little family would persevere, because they had a solid foundation.

Molly came into the bedroom after Sherlock was curled up in bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, working her hair up into a high bun. Sherlock sat up. “This is all reminding me of the time Victor contacted me, 10 years after I’d last heard from him.”

Molly tilted her head to the side, thinking. “Oh! Your college roommate?”

“Come Molly, you know full well Victor was more than my roommate.” Sherlock grinned at her. Molly turned to face him, blushing. 

“Well, right. Boyfriend? Lover? Friend with benefits? I never really did understand what kind of relationship you two had.”

Sherlock shrugged. “All of the above? None of the above? I have no idea. I was high most of the time, as you know. We just sort of happened. But Victor was beautiful. We’d been paired up as roommates and at first I ignored him. I was there to study, and learn, and it was all very important to me, and he was just some person they were making me live with. But little by little we became friends. He’d drag me out to the pub with his friends, and I was tutoring him in chemistry, and it didn’t really happen on purpose, or with any thought, you know? One night we were sitting around, drinking and debating something or other we’d been talking about in class that day, and the next thing I knew, I had my tongue down his throat.”

Sherlock paused, thinking back. “I actually was a virgin then, some awkward fumbling at boarding school had never really gone anywhere. But Victor was patient and kind and all I could think about was the fact that I should be uncomfortable, this shouldn’t be something I wanted. Looking back, I’m not even sure if it was sex in general, or sex with another man that had me on the back foot, but Victor had the patience of a saint, and the morning found us waking up in his bed, tangled up in each other’s arms, and it pretty much stayed that way the rest of the term.”

He looked at Molly to see how she was taking this story of such intimacy. They hadn’t spoken much about their past lovers, not in any detail. There wasn’t any specific reason - neither one of them were the jealous type, it just hadn’t seemed important. But Molly could tell it was a night Sherlock felt like talking, so she let him go.

“We went home for Christmas and I didn’t know what to tell my parents. They kept asking if I’d met anyone at school and I just said Victor and I hung out a lot. Part of me didn’t want to talk about it because I didn’t want to be one of those people who go off to University and fall in love and it was just all so sappy and normal and ordinary, and I already knew I didn’t want that. Part of me didn’t want to talk to my parents about my burgeoning sex life. Part of me was terrified that I was growing attached to Victor. I guess I hoped they’d put two and two together, but if they did, they never mentioned it. I went back to school and it was second term when the drugs started. Victor wasn’t happy about it, but he kind of just got dragged along in my wake. He’d take care of me and they knew to fetch him if I needed to be taken home. He babysat me on a lot of nights where I’d overindulged. He indulged me, if I’m honest, because he was in love with me. I wasn’t sure if I loved him or not, but eventually I loved cocaine and heroin more than I loved anything. But he never put his foot down, never tried to get me to stop, just took care of me and kept me safe and then it would just happen again.”

Sherlock sighed. “I think he felt guilty about that. He was the one who called Mycroft the night I OD’d the first time and they had to call emergency services on me. He saved my life. He stayed with me until they took me away in the ambulance.”

Molly nodded, and slid under the covers. “He was beautiful, I remember you showing me photos when we first started dating. I think I know why you have a thing for dark brown eyes.” 

Sherlock laughed, “Maybe, but that was pretty much the only thing the two of you have in common. Gender, nope, skin color, not even close, you have long hair and he shaved his head, but oh, yes, you both have brown eyes.” He laughed, leaning over to kiss his wife. “What can I say, I’m a sucker for beautiful eyes on beautiful people.”

Molly murmured her appreciation of the compliment and curled up into Sherlock’s arms. “Anyway, you never told me this story. So he contacted you?”

“Right, yeah. About two years before I met you. I was clean, at the time, and pretty convinced I was going to stay clean. I was staying with Mycroft, which was the most horrible thing ever, and desperately trying to figure out how I was going to earn a living so that I could move out. I’d been pretty much drifting until that last stint in rehab, staying with friends, or my parents, or at times, on the street. But I was at Mycroft’s and clean and then suddenly I got a phone call from Victor. He never would tell me how he got my number. Sometimes I think Mycroft set it up, but I’m not so sure. Mycroft wouldn’t have encouraged anything from my University days, especially not someone who had sat back and let me go down that spiral.”

He turned Molly so he was spooning her, fitting his lanky arms and legs around her in a position they both found comfortable. “He said he was thinking of me, and wondering if I was still alive. The last time I left school for rehab I never went back, and part of that attempt at sobriety was breaking ties with that whole part of my life. Victor wasn’t on drugs, but he had put up with a lot from me, and it was decided that I needed friends who wouldn’t stand for it.”

He leaned over, nibbling on Molly’s neck. She moaned, and then turned around to him, “If you don’t want to tell this story, you don’t have to, but stop trying to distract me.”

Sherlock chuckled into her neck. “Well, my point is, we met for coffee and we talked a little bit but it was very obvious that we’d ended up at very different points in life, and we didn’t really have anything in common anymore. He took me back to his flat and we fooled around a bit, but by then I was pretty strongly working on my “Feelings are a distraction” plan, and I didn’t enjoy it much. I told him I couldn’t pick up where we’d left off, it’d been too long, but that I appreciated him checking up on me. We parted amicably, and I haven’t heard from him since. I suspect Kevin’s going to be a lot like that. He’s curious about what happened to you and the baby, but if he’s married with a child of his own, he’s not going to be pushing to get back into your life.”

He paused for a moment, “But I’d prefer if you skipped the ‘fooling around’ part.”

Molly rolled over, about to get offended, when she saw the grin on Sherlock’s face. “Brat,” she said.

“And yet you love me.”

“More than any other man on this planet.”

The next day Molly was at work when she got the text from Sherlock.

“Married 18 months, wife pregnant, credit report clean, police record clean. Owns a house outside of the city, commutes in for work.”

Molly sent back a quick reply, and spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about what she’d say to Kevin in a return letter.

Molly and Sherlock went through their evening routine as usual, this time they swapped out and Molly remained upstairs reading to Will after Olivia had been put to bed. Eventually, however, both children were tucked in, and she went downstairs and headed into the kitchen.

“You read my mind,” remarked Molly to Sherlock, as he handed her a glass of white wine. “This has been the longest couple of days I can remember.”

“Longer than when Will wasn’t sleeping and I had to come help you after Mary had already been there?”

Molly smiled, remembering what a lifesaver her husband had been, back in the early days of single parenting Will. She ran a hand through her long brown hair and sat down at the kitchen table, swirling her wine around in her glass and watching it catch the light.

Sherlock sat down next to her and placed a file in front of her. “Kevin’s file, from Mycroft.”

Molly sighed and opened it, flipping through it. “Looks like he was at least telling the truth about his marriage and whatnot. I honestly don’t think he’s trying to get in the middle of things or anything. I suppose even if he did try, Mycroft could have something done, legally?”

Sherlock shrugged. “He knew you were pregnant, made no attempt to be involved. Waited nine years to do anything about it. Even if he did want to prove paternity, no judge in the world is going to upset an 8 year old’s life for a complete stranger. But yes, my brother would make sure his nephew was protected.”

“It’s not that I want to keep Kevin away from Will, not exactly.” Molly took a drink of her wine, composing her thoughts. “It’s that...Will’s never even asked. He knows where babies come from. He knows you’re not his biological father. And he’s never once shown any interest in who that man was. You’re his Papa, you’ve been his Papa as long as he can remember. If it was something that bothered him, something that he was curious about, I’d feel differently.”

Sherlock nodded, glancing upwards. “I don’t feel threatened. I’m pretty secure that Will knows who his Papa is. Even if he wanted to meet Kevin, I wouldn’t feel threatened. But I agree - it isn’t something he’s concerned about at the moment, and I don’t think springing all this on him is in his best interest.”

Molly sipped her wine, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Thoughts raced through her mind as she stared forward. Finally, she set her wine down and spoke. “So, we tell him that yes, I kept the baby, and that I’m married, and he’s adopted by his father, and he’s being well taken care of, and leave it at that for now?”

“I think that’d be best. Just flat out tell him - Will knows he’s adopted, hasn’t asked about his biological father, and we think it’s best to wait for him to ask those questions, and we’ll deal with it then.” Sherlock reached over, taken her hand in his. “In any event, we’ll get through this like we always have, as a family.”

The next day, Molly spent her off-time at work composing a letter, which she emailed to Sherlock. After some back and forth and editing, she finally wrote it out longhand, signed it, and dropped it into the post.

Kevin,

Your letter came as quite a shock to me, as you can imagine. I’m glad that you’ve found someone to share your life with. I too, have found someone to share my life with, and he has adopted my son.

He’s a growing, curious boy, with dark hair and dark eyes. He’s tall, I suspect he’ll take after you in that regard.

He’s also incredibly smart, and inquisitive. The one thing he hasn’t asked about, however, is his biological father. He knows that my husband adopted him, that he is not his biological father. He has not asked about who that is, however.

His father and I have agreed that until he does so, there’s not a lot of point in continuing this conversation. He is happy, settled, and we don’t think it’s in his best interest to spring anything upsetting on him. I know you didn’t ask, but I just wanted to be clear. That’s a question I will not be shy to answer, but I want him to ask it.

Just know that he is loved, and in a happy home with many opportunities to learn and grow and be well taken care of. I’m sure your child will be too, and I wish you and your family all the best.

Molly

She had considered signing it Molly Hooper Holmes, but she decided not to make it any easier on him to find out who she’d married. If he didn’t know, it was because he hadn’t bothered to try to find out, as their wedding had caused quite the splash in the papers.

Once she dropped it into the post, she sat in her office for a while, looking at the framed picture on her desk. It was a double frame, one side was Sherlock holding Will in the hospital, and the other was Sherlock holding Olivia the day they’d brought her home to Baker Street .

Her family was far from ordinary, in every way possible. But she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not for a life with Kevin, not for a life with Tom, not for a life where she stayed single and free.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying so hard to get back to my fics. :)

Molly was relieved when no response came from Kevin. Hopefully he was letting the situation drop. As much as she wanted to be true to her son, she didn’t think eight was the right age for him to have to deal with all this. He considered Sherlock his Papa and right now that was good enough for him.

What wasn’t good enough for him, was the lack of pets in the Hooper-Holmes household. 

“Mama, Toby has been gone a long time,” he remarked casually one Saturday afternoon. Molly was in the kitchen, baking some cupcakes for a party Olivia was going to on Sunday.

“Mm, yes, he has,” she said, stirring the bowl. “Since before Olivia came along.”

Will was quiet for another moment. “Grammy said Papa had a dog when he was a little boy. They got it when Uncle Mycroft went off to boarding school, so that Papa wouldn’t be lonely.”

Molly smiled. She was fairly sure Sherlock was not lonely when his brother left for school, not really. From everything Sherlock had told her, the two had fought like cats and dogs almost from the moment of his birth. She remembered one story Sherlock had told her, when his mother caught seven year old Mycroft about to try to flush infant Sherlock down the toilet.

“Well, since neither you nor Olivia are in any danger of going off to boarding school, what are you trying to ask me, Will?” She set down the bowl and stared at her son.

“Well, since we don’t have a cat, that means we have no pets at all. I think we should get a puppy. Papa had a dog, he must like dogs.”

Molly knew this day was coming. What little boy didn’t ask for a dog or a cat at some point? Toby had been an older cat when Will knew him, and he only barely remembered the sad day they came home to find that Toby had passed on. 

“Well, we’ll have to talk to Papa, of course. And Olivia. That’s a family decision.”

Will nodded. “But do you want a puppy, Mama?”

Molly considered this. “I’m more a cat person, but I know your Papa isn’t. But dogs are a lot more work than cats. You have to take them for walks, and clean up their poop.”

Will wrinkled his nose at this.

“That’s my point,” said Molly picking the bowl back up and pouring the batter into the cupcake tins. “There’s work to be done, and if you’re old enough to want a dog, you’re old enough to help take care of it.”

Will considered this, and then slid off his chair, reaching for the bowl. “Can I?” he said.

Molly finished pouring the batter, and then looked into the bowl. “Get a spoon, you can scrape the bowl.”

Will grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and took the bowl from Molly, setting himself back down at the table and getting to work on the thick chocolate batter. Molly slid the tin into the oven, and then started cleaning up the counter.

“Rinse that when you’re done and put it in the dishwasher,” she said, putting her measuring cups and spoons in there.

“Yup.” said Will, mouth full of batter.

Molly shook her head at her silly son, and set a timer on her phone for the cupcakes. She then went into the sitting room and picked up her phone.

Will’s asking about dogs - MH

This is my mother’s doing. Or my father’s. Or both. -SH

They were looking at pics of you and Redbeard when they were visiting your parents. -MH

Family meeting tomorrow? After Olivia’s party? I suspect I’ll be home too late tonight. -SH

Sounds good. Stay safe! -MH

For you? Always. -SH

Molly smiled, and slipped her phone into her pocket. 

The rest of the day went quietly. Will retrieved Olivia from upstairs (once he’d eaten all the cupcake batter, of course) and they went out into the back garden. Molly was thankful for days like today, when the two of them managed to get along. Between their age and gender differences, every day was a roll of the dice on whether they’d be best friends or mortal enemies. 

Molly enlisted both kids to help her ice the cupcakes (and she suspected that an awful lot of icing made it into two small children) and then announced that since Papa wouldn’t be home that night, they were going to Angelo’s for dinner with the Watsons. 

Of course, she forgot that the Watsons DID have a dog. Adopted when Amanda was five, the Watson’s dog was an overly energetic pug named Gertie. 

And Will had all sorts of questions for them about her. Amanda talked about how much fun it was to snuggle with Gertie, and John interjected with how much Amanda hated cleaning up after her. Mary pointed out that you also had to make sure she had fresh water every morning, and she needed to be fed twice a day. And sometimes, if you slept in on Saturday, she would come and wake you up for her food.

Throughout the meal, they went back and forth - the Watson parents pointing out how much work a dog was, and the Watson daughter pointing out how much fun it was to have a dog to run around the garden with, and who would snuggle with you at night, and who, yes, sometimes chewed on her toys, but that was okay, because dogs don’t know any better.

Molly sighed as she drove back home, two children happily talking in the backseat about what kind of dog they should get, and whether they should get a girl or a boy.

“Excuse me,” she interjected. “Do not forget that this has not been discussed yet. Your father says tomorrow, when Olivia gets back from Sasha’s birthday party, we can have a family meeting about whether or not we’re going to think about getting a dog.”

The children quieted down after that, although she pretended not to hear the grumbling and furious whispers as the children plotted exactly how they’d talk their parents into buying them a dog. She smiled to herself. The odds of Sherlock saying no to a dog were about a million to one, but she also loved when her children were willing to work together on something - anything, so she left them to their plotting and concentrated on getting them home.

Both children were long in bed when Molly heard the front door open. She was tucked into bed with a book, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. He had texted earlier, saying he wasn’t sure when he’d be home, and not to wait up, but old habits die hard, and Molly struggled to stay awake as she waited for her husband to return.

After a few moments, he came into the bedroom. Dropping a soft kiss on her lips, he gestured to the bathroom. “Be back in a sec,” he said, disappearing into the en suite. Molly placed a bookmark in her book and placed it on her side table, rolling over onto her side, facing Sherlock’s side of the bed. 

Sherlock came back into the bedroom, naked except for an open dressing gown. Molly eyed him, grinning. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out clean pyjamas, and then caught her leer as he turned around.

“Or maybe I should leave these off?” he said, indicating the folded pyjamas in his hand.

“I was going to talk to you about the kids and their puppy pleas, but right now I think you just need to come to bed, husband.”

Sherlock grinned wolfishly at her, and pounced.

There would be plenty of time to talk about it in the morning.

Despite their late night, Sherlock and Molly awoke to the sound of songbirds, and not quarrelling children. This was a lovely surprise, and they indulged themselves, lounging in bed and discussing whether or not the household was ready for a dog. 

As Molly suspected, Sherlock was firmly on the side of the children, which meant she had already lost. There was no real reason to deny the request, other than Molly’s fear that she’d end up mostly responsible for the dog.

“Nonsense,” said Sherlock. The children can walk it before and after school, and if there’s going to be a long day I can take it to Baker Street with me, and we’ll all pitch in.”

“I just don’t want it to be something the children are excited about for a month, and then it’s too much work and I end up with it all when you’re gone for a week.”

Sherlock snuggled against Molly. “Have we ever let the children shirk their responsibilities? I don’t think we’re going to start now.”

Molly playfully swatted at Sherlock. “You’re using snuggles to try to convince me.”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, I just like snuggling you.”

Soon enough, they heard footsteps in the hallway, and a knock at their door. The moment the words “Come in,” had left Sherlock’s lips, they suddenly had both children catapulting themselves into the bed. 

There was tickling, and wrestling, and suddenly, little Olivia, who had not yet learned anything about subtlety, said “Can we talk about the puppy NOW?”

Molly pretended to groan and pull the covers over her head. Sherlock eyed both of his children. “You realize that dogs need to be walked? And not just for three minutes. They need a good walk, twice a day. And when they poop in the neighbor’s garden, you have to bag it up and throw it away.”

“Or OUR garden,” said Molly, still hiding under the covers, much to Olivia’s delight.

“Right,” said Sherlock.

Will nodded. “Yes and we’d have to feed him and tell you when it’s time to add dog food to the grocery list and he needs to have baths and oh Papa PLEASE can we get a puppy?”

Olivia pulled the covers off Molly’s head, who pulled her daughter under the covers with her, snuggling up to her. “Do you want a puppy, Olivia? You’d have to help walk him.”

“Her! I want a girl puppy!” said Olivia.

Sherlock glanced at Molly. “We’ll go and look at puppies and we’ll see which one seems like a good fit for our household, and we won’t worry about whether it’s a boy or a girl. We need a dog that fits us.”

“So we can get a puppy?” Will practically jumped into Sherlock’s arms. “Thank you Papa! Granny said you loved your dog so I knew you’d want a dog, I knew you would!”

Sherlock moved Will into the spot next to his sister between he and Molly, and turned to both of them. “But I mean it. I don’t want to hear that I’m away on a case and your mother had to take care of the dog. That’s not fair to her.”

“Yes, Papa!” the children said simultaneously.

“Now, I think Olivia has a birthday party to get to this afternoon, so we should see to clothing and breakfast and getting a move on.” said Molly. “We’ll find a day this week to go look at puppies.”

Somehow, they managed to get the very excited children into their own bedrooms to get dressed. Molly hopped into the shower, and Sherlock threw on a dressing gown over his pyjamas and headed downstairs to get some breakfast into the children, who by the time Molly got downstairs after her shower and sent Sherlock up for his, were already bickering about puppy names.

“I think,” said Molly, making herself some toast, “That since a name is a big deal, and it wouldn’t be fair to the other one if one of you got to name the puppy, that maybe Papa should name the puppy.”

“Papa named his skull after himself,” grumbled Will. “He’s rubbish with naming things!”

“I did not name the skull after myself,” came a voice from the doorway. Sherlock was there, leaning against the doorway, his hair still damp. “I named the skull after a friend of mine. Who was named Billy.”

“Papa’s name is Sherlock,” said Olivia, finally paying attention to the conversation. 

“His REAL first name is William. That’s why I’m named William. But Papa doesn’t like to use it. His middle name is Sherlock.”

Olivia looked to her father for confirmation, who nodded. “I don’t want to be called Violet,” she said. “That’s Granny’s name.”

Molly nodded. “And Olivia was my mom’s name.”

“Did they call you Billy when you were little, Papa?” asked Will.

Sherlock shook his head. “Never. I was always William. Drove Mycroft crazy because they always insisted on calling him Myc, which he hated, but I always got my full name, and I didn’t even want to be called that. I started going by Sherlock when I left for university, and I finally got my parents to give in to it later.”

“Mama says you should name the puppy,” said Olivia, her attention wandering again. “Because it wouldn’t be fair to me if Will named it.”

Sherlock hummed in agreement. “Well, we have to find a puppy first.” He walked into the kitchen, smiling at Molly as she handed him a cup of coffee. “And that’s not today, because Olivia has a party, and we need to figure out where we’ll be adopting this dog so let’s just have some patience, okay?”

“Good luck with that.” muttered Molly.

The next weekend, the children were practically vibrating with excitement. They’d picked out a brown, four month old mutt the day before, and now today, Saturday, they would bring him home. They’d went shopping Friday and bought all the things they’d need, and Sherlock and Greg were spending the morning making sure the fence around the garden was secure and there was no way a curious puppy could slip out to bother the neighbors. 

Olivia was very proud to hang up the leash on the hook Molly put up by the back door. After lunch, Sherlock announced that everything was all set, and they could go pick up the puppy. They all piled into the car, and soon they were at the shelter picking up their new puppy.

“Have you decided on name? He’s young enough that you could probably change it without a problem,” said the volunteer who was filling out the paperwork.

“Faraday,” said Sherlock.

“Nerd,” muttered Molly.

Soon they were back home, and the children took Faraday out into the back garden, to show him around. Molly and Sherlock stood in the window, watching. “They seem really happy.”

Sherlock nodded. “Redbeard was indispensable when I was a boy. I think they’ll really love having a dog.”

Sherlock stepped behind Molly, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on the top of her head. “Our family just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”

Molly smiled in agreement. It certainly did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will brings home a piece of playground gossip, and Molly has a difficult conversation with him.

Molly stood on the pavement, looking at her husband and her two children, one holding Faraday’s leash. “Are you sure you guys will be fine?”

Sherlock reached past her and opened up the door to the car. “Yes, I’m perfectly capable of parenting my own children for five days. Go to your conference, give your paper, kick some...butt,” he glanced back at the children, “And have a lovely time.”

Molly chewed on her lower lip, looking at the children. “You will be good for Papa, right?”

“Yes, Mama,” they said in unison. She looked at Will and Olivia, looking every bit a pair of perfect angels. Ah, but she knew better.

“I mean it,” she said.

The children smiled back at her. Presumably, Sherlock had already gotten to them, and told them to be on their best behavior today. He knew she was nervous about being gone this long, and had tried to convince him to bring the children and come with her. “The children have never been to Ireland, you could sight-see while I’m at my conference.” Sherlock had insisted, however, that this was her opportunity to go and focus on her career, and he was perfectly capable of parenting his children.

She sighed, and reached for the children. Will handed Faraday’s leash to Sherlock, and she hugged each of them in turn. “I mean it. Be good for your father. And don’t take advantage of him. I know he gets...distracted.”

“I’m taking them to Baker Street with me during the week, Mrs. Hudson will spoil them plenty, they don’t need me to do that.”

Molly agreed that this was probably true, and turned to kiss her husband goodbye. The kiss went on too long for the children, who after a moment started going “EWWWW KISSING.” Molly went to pull away, and Sherlock dove in for a second kiss. When they broke apart, he grinned at the children. “That’s never going to make me stop kissing your mother, sorry.”

Molly laughed and climbed into the back of the car, thanking the driver for being so patient. She looked out the window at the children, who smiled and waved, and then they pulled off toward the airport.

Sherlock turned to the children. “First off, Faraday needs his walk, so let’s walk down to the corner shop and pick up a few things.”

They set off, Sherlock handing the leash back over to Will, who had been working with Faraday on walking nicely on the leash. It was going okay, but Sherlock made a mental note to sign them up for some obedience classes. A well trained dog was necessary for city living. 

They ran into a few neighbors along the way who they stopped and chatted with. Lindsay, one of Will’s friends from school, was very excited to meet Faraday. “You got a DOG!” she squealed. Will showed him off to Lindsay and Sherlock tried to make small talk with his mother.

“Will speaks highly of your daughter,” said Sherlock. “He says she’s very intelligent.”

“I didn’t realize that you were Will’s father,” she said. “Lindsay didn’t mention that her friend had such a famous father.”

Sherlock glanced around. “Well, famous in some circles, I guess,” he said uncomfortably. 

“Mmm, maybe more like infamous,” she said. “Come along, Lindsay, we have things to do.”

Lindsay reluctantly said goodbye to Will and Faraday, and the three Holmeses continued down the sidewalk. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at the woman and her daughter, and caught Lindsay’s mother glaring at him over her shoulder.

Sherlock shrugged. She wasn’t the first person who didn’t like him, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. He just hoped it wouldn’t cause problems for Will, who really liked his friend Lindsay. They continued on their walk, looping Faraday’s leash over a post.

After being talked into getting them each some sweets at the shop, they left, Sherlock carrying the bag with their purchases, and this time Olivia with Faraday’s leash. He was still small enough that he didn’t pull too much for the youngest Holmes to handle him, but Sherlock watched carefully, wondering how long that would be true for. 

Once they got home and the kids were off to play, Sherlock settled in on the sofa, going through his email. He didn’t go into the office today because Molly was leaving for the airport, but he thought maybe there’d be some stuff he could handle over email. He never charged for things he could solve without leaving the house, he considered them a treat for him, just puzzles to keep his mind fresh. The bigger cases he got paid for, and the stuff he did for the Yard, well, Molly said he should get paid for those, but he didn’t. The money he got from private clients on bigger cases kept him afloat. 

Faraday came and curled up at his feet between the sofa and the coffee table, and Sherlock stopped to pet him for a few minutes. He really did enjoy having a dog around, even if he was no longer ten years old with a dog to play pirates with. 

After a while he noticed the children were being quieter than usual, and he went upstairs to check on them. Olivia was curled up in bed, playing with a couple of her dolls, and Will was reading a book. Sherlock went into Will’s room. 

“What are you reading?”

Will held up the book, “It’s about bees. Remember the book about bees I loved so much when I was little? Mama and I found this one at the library and it’s got bee stuff, too. Bees are really cool.”

Sherlock sat down on the floor next to Will. “They are really cool. I keep trying to convince my parents to let me put some beehives on their property, but your Grammy is worried they’ll bother her.”

Will’s face lit up. “But they won’t! I read in my book! Bees always forage away from their hive, so they would go out away, pollinate, and then go back to their hive. They wouldn’t do much right by the house at all.”

Sherlock nodded. “Exactly, but Grammy is Grammy.”

They looked through the book together for a while, and then Olivia wandered in. “Whatcha looking at?”

“Bees.” said Will.

“Bees? I wanna see.”

By the time they finished going through the book, Olivia was complaining she was hungry, and Sherlock realized how late it was. “Guess we’re getting take out.” 

 

 

The rest of the summer flew by, and before they knew it, it was time for school to start up once again. Olivia was in her last year of nursery school, and Will was off to Year Four. Over the summer, Mycroft had once again tried to convince Molly and Sherlock to send them to one of the very good public schools in the area, even offered to pay for it, but Molly and Sherlock felt the children were doing very well in their neighborhood school. Will liked going to school with the kids they played with in the area, and to be honest, Molly was quite resistant about letting Mycroft pay for too many things for the children.

“He sees it as buying power, and i don’t want him to have power over our parenting decisions. When he bought Will his latest violin, that was fine; it was a gift. But I don’t want him to think that all he has to do is throw money at us and we’ll do what he wants with the children.”

And so off to school they went. Molly adjusted her schedule at Barts again - over the summer she’d worked shifts all over the place, since she knew Sherlock could take the children to Baker Street with him if need be. However, she liked having a more set schedule during the school year, especially since Sherlock’s schedule was never normal. 

Molly left early for Barts, Sherlock got the children off to school, and Molly finished up at Barts in time to pick them up. There was always bumps in the road - last minute autopsies or work she needed to do for the Yard, but more or less, they kept a fairly reasonable schedule. 

Sherlock had just seen the children into school when he ran into Lindsay and her mother again. Once again, he did his best to attempt small talk, and once again, the woman glared at him, pushed her children quickly past him, and disappeared into the school. Sherlock sighed. He was used to people not liking him, as a matter of fact it seemed most people didn’t like him. But it worried him when it involved the children. 

It was a quiet day at Baker Street . He only had a few appointments, and nothing came from Lestrade. He spent his time between appointments working on his latest violin composition, and texting with John, who was also having a slow day at his surgery. 

After his last appointment he texted Molly that he was heading home early, and he’d see her when she got home with the kids.

Before he went home, however, he made a detour and pulled up in front of a non-descript block of flats and hopped out, looking around. He eventually found who he was looking for. “Wiggins,” he called.

The young man was sitting out on the stoop of one of the flats, smoking a cigarette. He stubbed it out and stood, walking over to Sherlock. “Hey, Mister Holmes. What do you need?”

Sherlock filled Wiggins in on some surveillance he needed for one of his cases that day, and Wiggins assured him that he or one of the more reputable members of the Homeless Network would get right on it. Sherlock nodded, slipped him some cash, and hopped back into the car, driving home.

Will, with his fiery personality and strong attitude, had quickly become one of the ringleaders of his year. This was never in any malicious way, but Will was a born leader, and other children tended to fall in line behind him. They played and learned and Will enjoyed his spot at the top of the pecking order. 

He hadn’t seen Lindsay in a week or two before school started, so he was anxious to play with her during their outside period. He found her with a group of kids under a tree.

“Hi, Lindsay! How was your vacation?”

Lindsay looked up at Will guiltily, and turned to her friends. “I’ll be back,” she said, standing. She took Will by the arm and dragged him over to a spot against the school wall, where they were alone. “My mother was asking about you. She saw your last name on the class list and asked if you were related to Sherlock Holmes.”

Will frowned, “Well, you know he’s my Papa.”

Lindsay nodded, “Well, I guess my mom never noticed him dropping you off at school last year, because she didn’t know. She got all weird and went and talked to my father and then a couple days later she started asking me if I’d ever been over to your house.”

“Why?”

“She said awful things, Will. She said your Papa was dangerous, that he was a drug addict. I said that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard, Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant detective, and drug addicts live on the street and don’t live in townhouses with children and solve crimes with the police!”

Will laughed, “That IS the stupidest thing ever. My Papa? So that’s why your mom was so rude to Papa today?”

Lindsay shrugged, “I guess so? It’s not true, is it, Will?”

Will looked off into the distance, frowning. “Mama and Papa have wine with dinner sometimes but I heard about drugs and there’s nothing like that going on at my house!”

Lindsay shook her head, her blond curls bouncing. “Well, I don’t know but that’s what my Mama said and now I’m not allowed to go to your house anymore.”

That made Will angry, “Well, it’s NOT TRUE. I’m going to ask my Mama tonight, she wouldn’t lie to me.”

Lindsay turned around back to watch the group of children she had been sitting with, most of which were watching the two of them. “Well, okay, because my sister is going to spy on me and tell my Mom what I do, so I am going to go back over there now. Maybe your Papa can talk to my Mama or something. Bye, Will!”

With that she turned and ran back to her group of friends. Will stood alone by the wall watching her for a few minutes. Why would Lindsay’s mom say such terrible things about her Papa? Lindsay had come over and played lots of times in the last couple of years and no one had ever said anything about it.

He resolved to ask his Mama what was going on that night.

The evening was filled with stories of their first day at school. “Is Lindsay in your class this year?” asked Sherlock. 

Even Olivia noticed how uncomfortable Will was with the question. “Yes, Papa,” he said, and then started telling a story about one of the new kids in class. Sherlock made a note of this, but said nothing. They had definitely learned that with Will, it was better to let him bring things up when he was comfortable with them, rather than trying to pull information out of him. He could be as stubborn as both his parents when he wanted to.

That night, after Sherlock and Will had finished reading a chapter of The Hobbit, Molly went in to kiss her son good night. When she stepped into the doorway, he sat up. Molly looked at him questioningly, and walked over to the bed.

“Mama? Can I ask you a question?” he asked, looking nervous. Molly sat down on the side of the bed, concerned. 

“Of course, dear heart. What’s up?”

“Lindsay says her mother told her that Papa does drugs.” he said, staring down at his blanket. “That’s not true, is it?”

Molly blanched, and looked at her son for a long moment, gathering her thoughts. While she figured this topic would come up with one or both of her children some day, she’d expected it to come once they were old enough to do their own internet research on their father, not now.

Will mistook her silence for reticence. “I’m sorry, Mama. Was that a bad question to ask?”

Molly shook her head. “William Holmes, you know the rules around here. There are no questions that can’t be asked. That’s not how this family works. I just...I want to try to explain this to you in a way that you’ll understand. It’s a scary thought, your Papa using drugs.”

Will nodded. Molly scooted him over on the bed so she could sit with him, both of them up against the headboard. “I’m going to start this by saying your father hasn’t touched anything other than alcohol since before you were born, and he rarely has a drink. You do not need to be concerned about your Papa.”

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “You know how your Papa has his Mind Palace?”

“That’s how he organizes all his memories, how he remembers so much stuff.” said Will.

“Right. But Papa had to learn how to do that. You know how when you watch telly, you’re thinking about the television show?”

Will nodded.

“Well, before your Papa learned how to make his Mind Palace, he was always thinking about everything. He couldn’t just think about the book he was reading, he was thinking about everything that happened that day, and everything he was going to do tomorrow, and a conversation he’d had last week, and...well, you get the point.”

She paused, watching Will’s face.

“So, when your father went off to University, it was the first time he’d been away from home. You might not realize it now, but your Papa used to be very bad with people. He came off as rude because he expected everyone to be as brilliant as he was, and they weren’t, obviously. So it was hard for him to make friends. He didn’t have any friends for a long time. And his brain wouldn’t stop. One of the things his Mind Palace is good for now, is that once he puts something in a room in his Mind Palace, he can shut the door, and not think about it until he needs it. Then he goes and opens the door and retrieves the memory. Has Papa explained this part to you?”

Will thought about it. “A little bit. Okay, so, he didn’t have any friends, and he didn’t have his Mind Palace.”

“Right. So, in an attempt to slow his brain down, to stop all the thoughts from flying around all the time, he tried drugs.”

Will nodded, eyes wide.

“Now, let’s take something like alcohol. I can have a drink with dinner, like I did last night at Angelo’s, and then not have another drop of alcohol for a week, or a month, or if I wanted to, a year. It’s something nice to have occasionally but I don’t NEED it. When someone becomes addicted to a substance, however, their body craves it. They get sick if they don’t have it. Some people can’t have alcohol because they are addicted to it, and they have to avoid it so that they don’t need it, because it’s bad to have a lot of it, for a bunch of reasons.”

Will leaned his head against his mother’s side, listening.

“For your Papa, drugs are like that. He can’t just have some. Once he has it, his body wants it all the time. And all the time through University, he would go to a special hospital that would help him rid his body of the drugs, and learn to live without it, but eventually, he’d say ‘Oh, I’m fine’, and do drugs again, and start all over again.”

Molly sighed. “So, eventually, your father realized that he couldn’t do that anymore, it was bad for him, and he had to avoid even being around it. And so other than one small exception, your father hasn’t touched drugs since half a lifetime ago.”

She paused then. She wasn’t sure it was time to talk about the entire Magnusson case, but she wasn’t going to lie to her son, either. “Your father will tell you it was for a case. It was for a short period of time, and to his credit, he didn’t need help stopping afterwards. It was before you were born, before Amanda was born, and your Uncle John brought him to me and we both got very, very angry with him. And nothing since.”

She took a deep breath, looking back at Will. “So you tell Lindsay that unless she wants your Papa digging up all the dark bits of HER parents history, perhaps she can mind her own business.”

Will laughed at that. “Papa could tell all their secrets just by meeting them!” 

“I could,” said a voice from the doorway. They looked up to see Sherlock leaning against the doorframe. “Your mother is right. I had a problem. I like to think of it as a medical problem. A disease. I did what I had to do to beat that disease, like you would the flu, or cancer, or whatever. So I promise you, as I’ve promised your mother, I will never touch any sort of drug again as long as I live.”

He stepped into the room then, coming over and kissing both Will and Molly on the forehead. Molly stood, and the two of them tucked Will into bed. 

“Goodnight Mama. Goodnight Papa.”

“Goodnight, my son,” said Sherlock, and they quietly exited the room, closing the door behind them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock knew someday his father's words would come to haunt him. "Someday, someday you'll have children of your own, and you will understand what you've put us through."

Molly was just about to leave Barts for the afternoon when her mobile rung. She glanced at the number on the screen, but didn’t recognize it.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Holmes?” the voice asked.

“Yes?” she said, digging around in her bag to make sure she had everything she needed to leave. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward her office door, closing it behind her and pulling out her keys so she could lock it.

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but it’s Mrs. Garris, William’s teacher?”

Molly froze, key halfway to the lock. “Hi, Mrs. Garris. How can I help you?”

“William says it’s you that picks him up from school. Do you have time for a quick meeting with me when you get here today? It’s nothing earth-shattering but I’m noticing some issues with William that I want to try to get a handle on as quickly as possible.”

Molly locked the door and dropped her keys back into her bag. “Of course. I’m usually there right around three o’clock.”

Sighing, Molly dropped her keys back into her bag and fired off a quick text to Sherlock.

William’s teacher wants to talk to me. Will fill you in when I know more.

School had been back in session for only about a month or so, and she hadn’t noticed William having any troubles with things, the conversation with Lindsay notwithstanding. But he was also eight years old, and she didn’t always hear a lot about what was going on at school. 

She picked up Olivia first. “Mama has to go talk to William’s teacher, so you and William will have to stay out in the hallway and behave, okay?”

“Uh-huh”, said Olivia. “We went to the library today and I got new books!” 

“Oh good,” said Molly, making her way down the hallway to William’s class room. “We can read one tonight.”

“Papa's turn,” she said

“So it is. Well, you and I can read one tomorrow night.”

“Papa says maybe soon we can start Charlotte’s Web.” she said.

“That’s a good one. Maybe when we finish up the books you got from the library today. I know we have Charlotte’s Web at home because we read it to Will when he was little.”

By this point they’d arrived at Will’s classroom. Molly stuck her head in the door and saw Will at his desk, working on something. Mrs. Garris smiled. “Mrs. Holmes, come in. Will, can you go out in the hallway and work on that?”

Will looked up and saw his mother. He sighed and shoved the book and paper he’d been working with into his bag, and shuffled his way over to the door. “C’mon, Libby,” he said, and the two of them went out into the hallway.

“Please, have a seat,” said Mrs. Garris, indicating an adult-sized chair she kept next to her desk. “I don’t want to make this into a big deal, but I do want to be able to work with you to deal with it. I’m having quite a bit of trouble with William when it comes to things he’s not interested in. He’s very good at doing his work if he cares about the topic, but if it’s something boring, or something he doesn’t have any interest in, I get either no work turned in at all, or it’s half done and he’s doodled all over it.”

She stopped, handing Molly a couple of assignments. One of them was some simple arithmetic, and the other was some geography.

Molly rolled her neck and sighed. 

“If it’s science, or literature, or any number of other things, he does very well. He just doesn’t seem to care much about anything else.” Mrs. Garris went on.

Molly chuckled. “He comes into it honestly. His father was in his mid-thirties before he knew the Earth went around the sun, because it “wasn’t important.”

Mrs. Garris stared at Molly for a second. “It must be very interesting being married to Sherlock Holmes.”

Molly laughed, “Interesting is definitely a word for it. With him and the children, I often feel very outnumbered. And it’s not like I’m stupid.”

Mrs. Garris nodded. “Well, if you could work with William on the fact that even things that are boring or he thinks are unimportant still need to be learned, that would be great. I don’t want this to having bearing on his grades or his learning. He’s a bright child, there’s no reason for him not to excel.”

Molly nodded, standing. “I will definitely talk with him, as will his father. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. May I keep these?” she indicated the worksheets.

“Yes, go ahead,” said Mrs. Garris, standing. She shook Molly’s hand, and Molly went out into the hallway where Olivia and William were sitting on the floor, looking through one of the books Olivia had brought home.

“Okay, you two, home we go.”

Olivia jumped to her feet, shoving the book back into her bag. Will stood up slower, eyeing Molly. “Am I in trouble, Mama?”

Molly started walking down the hall, Olivia skipping ahead of them and Will walking next to her. “Not yet,” she said. “But I will talk to your dad later and then the three of us will have a chat.”

Will grumbled, but followed his mother and sister on the short walk back to their house. 

Molly followed William into the kitchen. “Do you have any homework?” she asked.

Will sighed and tossed his back onto the kitchen table. “Yes, I need to work on some stuff for spelling.”

“Get to it then,” she said, digging around in the fridge. “I have no idea what to make for dinner. And not a clue what time your Papa is due home. She stopped and pulled out her mobile to see if he’d texted her since she texted him, but no response. 

Eventually, Molly put a simple dinner on the table. She was vaguely concerned that she hadn’t heard from Sherlock. She had texted Mary, who said that he wasn’t with John, and that made her even more nervous. 

Finally, she texted Greg, “Is Sherlock working on something for you?”

But Greg texted back that no, he hadn’t heard from Sherlock all day. Sighing, she eat dinner with the kids and sent Will off to shower before calling Mrs. Hudson.

“Mrs. Hudson, hi, it’s Molly. Is Sherlock still there?”

“I don’t think so dearie, but I’ll go up and check.” She could hear Mrs. Hudson making her way out of her flat and up the stairs. “Going to take me a while, damn this hip.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hudson I’m so sorry to bother you, but he’s not answering his phone and he’s not with John or Greg, and it’s not like him to be out of contact without warning me first.”

She heard Mrs. Hudson knocking at the door, and then opening it. “Sherlock?” After a few moments, she spoke into the phone again. “No, he’s not here. I checked the bedroom in case he’d fallen asleep thinking, but nope, not here. I know he was here earlier because I brought him up some tea for one of his clients.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Hudson, I appreciate it.”

Molly hung up the phone and sighed. She jabbed at it again, dialing Sherlock’s number. It rang twice, and then went to voicemail. “Sherlock, please call, I’m getting worried.” She also then texted him much the same thing.

She slipped her phone back in her pocket. She heard Will turn the shower off, so she went and collected Olivia from in front of the telly. “Bath time, little girl.” Olivia grumbled, but turned off the telly and followed her mother upstairs. They busied themselves picking out clean pyjamas, and by the time they were ready, Will came out of the bathroom, his wet hair dripping all over his pyjamas.

“Dry your hair,” said Molly, ushering Olivia into the bathroom. Will ducked back into the bathroom behind them, grabbing the wet towel he’d thrown on the floor. Molly closed the door behind him.

She ran the water for Olivia’s bath while Olivia went about undressing herself. Unlike her brother, her clothes ended up in the hamper, and she picked up his and tossed them on top of hers. “Will is so messy,” she said.

Molly agreed that yes, this was true.

Once Olivia was in the tub, Molly busied herself washing her hair, and then left her to scrub herself down and play with her toys. Molly perched on counter, pulling out her phone to see if she’d missed a reply from Sherlock.

She had.

“Fuck, sorry. Thought I replied to your earlier text but I’d typed it all out and not hit send. I was wondering why you hadn’t updated me about your meeting, and I came into my texts to text you again and...there was my unsent text. Um, I won’t be home for dinner.”

Molly closed her eyes, trying to decide if she was upset or relieved and decided a bit of both. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I haven’t been sitting here terrified for hours that something was wrong while keeping a brave face for the children. I hadn’t called Mary, Greg AND Mrs. Hudson trying to figure out where you were.”

“I’m really sorry. I’m on my way home now, I should be there in 15.”

Molly set her phone down on the counter, annoyed, and went back over to Olivia. “Did you get yourself clean?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Okay, you can play for ten minutes. I’m going to set the timer on my phone, okay?”

She set a ten minute timer and stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking across the hall into Will’s room. He was hunched over his handheld game, not paying any attention to her. She watched him for a few minutes. When had her adorable baby boy turned into a kid? A stubborn kid?

Well, she knew she had his father to blame for that. She smiled, and turned back to Olivia, watching her happily play in the tub, her Barbie’s diving into the water. 

When the alarm went off, Olivia pulled the plug and Molly turned the shower on, rinsing the bubbles off of Olivia, who giggled and danced in the stream. 

Eventually she got Olivia dried off, and plaited her hair. There was teeth cleaning, and as Olivia climbed into bed, she realized someone was missing. “It’s Papa’s turn to read. Why isn’t Papa home yet?”

“He should be here any minute. We can wait for him.” Molly checked her phone, but there were no further updates. Olivia busied herself going through the pile of books, trying to decide on on for Sherlock to read, and Molly heard the front door open. “There he is.”

Sherlock came upstairs, looking for his family, and found the two of them. “Papa! You’re here! It’s your turn to read!”

“So it is,” said Sherlock. He came into the room, and Molly stood. She kissed him on the lips as they passed. 

“You’re not off the hook, and we still need to deal with Will,” she said quietly.

Sherlock nodded, and plastered a smile on his face before turning to Olivia. “New books!” he said. “What are we reading tonight?”

Molly stopped off into Will’s room. “Your father is home and reading with Olivia. I’m going to talk to him about what happened today, and then we’ll be up to talk before I read to you, okay?”

Will looked up from his game. “I’m sorry I didn’t do my geography.”

“I know, WIll, but it’s more than just that, okay?”

She went downstairs to wait for Sherlock. When he came down, he’d changed into his pyjamas and a dressing gown. 

“I really did think I’d sent that text,” he said, standing in the doorway.

Molly looked up, “I know. I know you wouldn’t just not tell me. But I really was worried. It’s not like you have a safe office job.”

Sherlock nodded, and came in and sat down next to Molly. “So, what trouble has the other Holmes boy been causing your life?”

Molly explained what was going on with Will, and the two of them headed up to Will’s room. They found him already tucked into bed.

“I already cleaned my teeth,” he said as they came in and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Good,” said Molly.

Sherlock reached out and patted Will’s leg. “Will, I know exactly how you feel when it comes to schoolwork that doesn’t interest you. I’m not very good at learning things I need to learn unless I am interested in them, either.”

Will opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock held up a hand. “However, son, they’re not just sending you to school to fill your head full of worthless information. If I didn’t know geography, and didn’t know about different places in the world, how could I deduce where someone is from? Your mother needs to know math to do the lab work she does. Heck, you need math to make cupcakes.”

Will cast his eyes down in his lap. “But Papa is so BORING!”

Sherlock rubbed his face, knowing this was that moment his father told him about, when his children would act EXACTLY like him, and he’d know what he put his own parents through. “I know, Will. Some stuff just IS boring. But you have to get through the boring stuff to get to the good stuff, so can we PLEASE just agree that you’re going to do your classwork?”

Molly though for a moment. “I’ll make you a deal. In three weeks, you have a day off school for teacher meetings. If you can go three weeks without your teacher complaining about you not finishing your work, I’ll take the day off and we can go to the Science Museum, just you and me. Olivia can go to Baker Street with Papa.”

Will’s eyes lit up at this. “Really? Just us?”

“Yup. But only if you can get your act together and get your work done.”

“I will, Mama. I’m sorry, Papa.” Will leaned over to hug both his parents. He looked up at Sherlock. “I told Lindsay to stop talking about my Papa.”

Sherlock nodded. “Now if only Lindsay’s mother would stop talking, but that’s another issue. I think she’s been avoiding me in the mornings because I have a few words for her.”

“Be nice,” said Molly, and the three of them laughed.

“Okay, out you go,” Molly said to Sherlock. “It’s my night to read and I am very interested in what’s going on in Narnia.”

Sherlock smiled, and stood. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Night, Papa.”

Molly dug around on the side table and pulled out the book. “Now, where did you and Papa leave off last night?”


	11. Chapter 11

On the rare occasions that Olivia had an after school playdate, Will relished the time he had alone in the house. Olivia hadn’t quite gotten the hang of playing by herself, not for any length of time, and while Will more or less got on with his little sister, he’d be the first to tell you he liked when he could be alone, too.

At the moment, he was curled up with a book in the sitting room, something he rarely did when Olivia was home. If Olivia was around, he tended to squirrel himself away in his bedroom to read. She was less likely to actually come looking for him, but if she wandered through the sitting room and found him, she’d usually try to convince him to come and play with her.

It was here that Sherlock found him when he returned from a rather ordinary Friday at Baker Street . He hadn’t even planned on going there that day, but he’d gotten a call about a case that seemed interesting, but ended up being a low 3, and he’d solved it before they’d even finished explaining the problem. A little bit of half-hearted footwork to prove himself, and he’d spent the rest of the afternoon playing violin and pestering Mrs. Hudson, who had finally insisted that he “go home to that lovely family of yours and torment them instead of a poor old lady.”

Sherlock had handed her October’s rent cheque, which quieted her down some, and hailed a cab to take him home.

To a quiet house. Molly was in the kitchen, baking something that smelled delicious. He accessed his Mind Palace and remembered that Olivia was with a friend, whose parents would return her before bedtime.

And Will was on the sofa, head hanging off the seat with his feet straight up along the back.

“If you keep tipping your book upside down all the words will fall out,” remarked Sherlock, shrugging out of his Belstaff. It really wasn’t cold enough to wear it yet, but it was a statement piece, and Sherlock’s statement was generally “I’m too stubborn to admit when it’s too hot to wear my Belstaff.”

“Pretty sure they won’t,” said Will, going back to his book.

Sherlock grinned and sat down next to him, peering at the book. “What are you reading?”

“Harry Potter,” he said.

Sherlock frowned. “I thought your mother wanted to read that with you once we got through Narnia.”

Will shrugged, “I didn’t want to wait. Once we finish Narnia we can take over where ever I leave off.”

Sherlock idly wondered what Molly would think of that, but it was her turn to pick, since he’d insisted on reading through all of the Narnia novels.

“It’s almost the 14th,” Sherlock remarked casually. “Have you decided what you want to do to celebrate?”

Will froze, then closed his book, putting a finger to keep his place. He tipped over, his legs falling into Sherlock’s lap. Sherlock helped right him.

“I have,” said Will, looking very serious.

Ever since the day Sherlock’s adoption of Will had been finalized, in Mycroft’s office with Anthea signing as witness, the Holmeses had celebrated Will’s Adoption Day. It was the day their little family became legal, and Will had always enjoyed having an extra “birthday” to celebrate. There was usually a favorite meal, and presents from not only Sherlock and Molly, but generally something from Mycroft, as well (delivered via courier, as were all their Uncle Mycroft gifts, as he couldn’t abide the idea of attending a children’s birthday party). 

Sherlock waited for Will to continue.

“I don’t want to celebrate my Adoption Day anymore,” said Will quietly, staring into his lap.

Sherlock took a moment to process this. “Okay.” he said, “That’s totally your choice. Might I ask why?” He thought about the letter from Kevin, sealed away in the Baker Street safe. Could this be the moment they’d dreaded, the moment Will asked about his birth father?”

“Olivia doesn’t have an Adoption Day, because she wasn’t adopted.” said Will. 

Sherlock nodded. “This is true.”

“And I don’t like thinking about the fact that you weren’t always my Papa. I don’t remember you not being my Papa, there’s pictures of you at the hospital with me, Mama says you were at my first birthday party. You ARE my Papa, and I don’t like being different from Olivia. Can we just pretend like I’m the same as Olivia?”

Sherlock looked toward the kitchen. He wasn’t good with this sort of stuff, but he knew that if Will had wanted to bring it up with Molly, he would have. He knew Sherlock was the key in all this, and so Sherlock took a deep breath and turned to his son.

“You are right about one thing, Will. I am your Papa. I wanted to be your Papa before you were born and I was thrilled that I got the chance to be. Letting me be your Papa is the most amazing gift your mother ever gave me, and yes, more so than Olivia. I love Olivia, and I am thrilled to be her Papa. But I was always going to be Olivia’s Papa. Your mother chose me to be your Papa, and to me, that makes it special, and a day to celebrate.”

He paused, watching Will.

“However, if you don’t want to celebrate it because it bothers you, then obviously we can stop. But I don’t want you to think that your adoption is something that is shameful, or something you should hide. I have never treated you any differently than I do Olivia, and I never will. You are the son of my heart, even if we don’t share DNA.”

Will leaned into Sherlock, who wrapped an arm around him. They sat there in silence for a while. Sherlock thought Will was thinking awfully loudly, but didn’t say anything. 

“Thank you for being my Papa,” said Will quietly. “I don’t think I would have liked not having a Papa.”

Sherlock pulled his son closer to him, “I’m sure your Mama would have made sure you had lots of people in your life. Even if I hadn’t been your Papa, I would have been around, and Uncle John, and Uncle Greg.”

Will grinned. “Probably not Uncle Mycroft, though.”

Sherlock laughed at this. “No, if I weren’t your Papa, you would not have an Uncle Mycroft. He loves you, in his own way, but you are right that he’s only Uncle Mycroft because he actually IS your uncle.”

They laughed, and Molly, hearing them, came into the sitting room. “What’s all this, then? Having fun without me?”

Will glanced at Sherlock, who read him in an instant. “Just laughing at Mycroft, as you do.”

He turned and mouthed to Molly, “I’ll tell you later.” 

“Well, Olivia isn’t going to be home for dinner, so I thought I’d make something she doesn’t like. How does pork chops sound?”

“Yum!” said Will. 

“Hey!” said Molly, looking down at the sofa, “Are you reading Harry Potter without me?”

“Just getting a head start,” said Sherlock, “He says once we finish Narnia we can jump in.”

Molly smiled, “Sounds good to me.”

Later that night, after both children had been tucked into bed, Molly came up to the bedroom where Sherlock had already crawled into bed, thumbing through emails on his phone. “So what was that all about, earlier?”

Sherlock set his phone down and explained, as Molly changed into her pyjamas. “He doesn’t want to celebrate his Adoption Day anymore because it reminds him that he’s different from Olivia.”

“Oh,” said Molly quietly. “I wish he weren’t.” she said.

“As do I, and as does he, but this is where we’re at. The only other option would have been to lie to him, and he’s so smart I’m fairly sure he’d remember before we moved in together. Plus, neither of us believe in lying to children.”

“Fair point,” said Molly, climbing into bed. “Did he seem upset?”

“He just didn’t want to make a big deal out of the difference, and said he wished I’d always been his Papa, and that he wouldn’t have liked not having a Papa, and I told him that he was special, because you chose me to be his Papa, and Olivia was just stuck with me.”

Molly giggled.

“But the question you’re not asking is whether or not he asked about his biological father, and no, it never even came up. I’m not sure if he’s afraid to ask, or if it honestly just hasn’t occurred to him that there’s someone out there.”

Molly snuggled into Sherlock. “He’ll ask someday.”

“Yup,” said Sherlock popping the ‘P’. “And we’ll answer him appropriately.”

Molly nodded. “Someday.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *sneaks in and drops a chapter on the table*
> 
> *scurries out*

October and November rolled by in the usual hectic way that life does when you’re busying living it. Will’s behavior in regards to his school work straightened up, Olivia started reading, first simple words and then a torrent of them. While Will’s reading had come in fits and starts, Olivia seemed to wake up one day ready to go, and suddenly everything was “What’s that word, Papa? What does that mean, Mama?” and suddenly reading time with Olivia turned into less Papa or Mama reading to her, and more Olivia insisting on reading to THEM, which they were of course okay with.

And soon it was December, and Olivia’s birthday was fast approaching. She would be five. She was still adamantly against learning the violin, so Sherlock arranged for symphony tickets for the two of them. Perhaps she would find an instrument she was interested in.

Molly and Mary had taken her shopping for a fancy dress, and even Uncle Mycroft, who knew the value of music education, got in on the event by sending a sleek black car to whisk them off to dinner and the show. After Molly talked him out of Angelo’s (“Do something special, we eat at Angelo’s constantly!”) he had settled on a Indian place he knew she loved, but which they rarely ate at because Will was not a fan of Indian food.

Olivia soaked up all the attention the servers lavished on her and her pretty new dress. “We’re going to the sym..sym… what’s it called, Papa?” she turned to Sherlock, who smiled across the table at her.

“Symphony, Olivia.”

“Yeah, the symphony! Because I’m going to be five and I don’t want to play the violin but Papa wants me to learn something.” 

Sherlock shrugged, and they dug into their curry, Olivia being very careful not to get any on her dress. “Can I wear this dress to my birthday party, Papa?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. 

Eventually they were whisked back into the car and and off to their very nice seats at the symphony. Sherlock made a mental note to thank Mycroft, and Olivia bounced in her seat. “Now, Olivia. You must be very quiet when they are playing. It’s like when Papa or Will are playing, only far more grown up.”

“Okay, Papa,” she said. 

Sherlock wasn’t sure she’d sit through it, and had an exit plan for intermission if necessary, but she surprised him by being absolutely captivated. During intermission she asked about all the people who were playing, and they read the program together and Sherlock showed her photos of the various instruments on his phone.

In the car on the way home, Sherlock played videos of different instruments and she finally decided that she wanted to learn the flute.

“Okay. Now, we talked about the fact that I know how to play violin, and your mother knows how to play piano, but anything else, we’ll have to find you a teacher. Is that going to be okay? We can get someone who will come to the house a couple times a week to work with you.”

“Okay, Papa!” she said, and it was settled - for Olivia’s 5th birthday, she would get a flute. 

Which ended up being easier said than done, and it wasn’t like the “said” part was easy, given the efforts they’d gone through to find something she was interested in. Finding a good starter flute hadn’t been that difficult - Sherlock called upon the music store where he’d been purchasing Will’s violins as he moved up, as well as having both his and Will’s serviced there. An order was put in for a fine flute suitable for a small beginner, and it would be delivered two days before her birthday.

Several people were recommended to Sherlock and he dutifully interviewed all of them. Five minutes of deductions had gotten rid of the first three.

Number one was a mid 20’s music teacher who was taking on private clients because of his mounting gambling debts. Number two was an older woman in her 60’s who had lied about her qualifications, and had left Baker Street , where Sherlock had been holding the interviews, in tears.

Number three had almost gotten past Sherlock’s deductions. He had the sneaking suspicion he was missing something, but he’d started in on the interview before he put his finger on what was bothering him about the middle-aged man.

Mid answer to one of his questions, Sherlock held up a hand. “Stop.”

The man trailed off, looking at Sherlock.

“Nevermind, you can go.”

“Why?” said the man, staring at Sherlock with a stunned expression on his face.

“Because you answered this ad at the behest of someone at the Daily Mail, as an attempt to get someone into my home to dig up dirt on me and mine. There’s the door. Find it.”

The man opened his mouth to argue his innocence, but a withering glare from Sherlock sent him packing. Sherlock considered texting Mycroft and asking him to have some sort of bureaucratic nightmare befall him, but finally set his phone down and sighed. This was proving to be far more difficult than he expected. He knew he’d be picky about who taught his child music, but he hadn’t expected to have such bad luck.

Once again, he considered teaching himself the flute. He could easily stay ahead of a five year old. He cast that idea aside again, remembering how frustrating Will had been at the beginning. Trying to teach something he wasn’t completely competent in would not do.

Finally, he picked up his phone again, and texted Mycroft to see if he had any connections with anyone who would be a sufficient teacher for his niece, and grabbed his Belstaff and headed home. 

Molly and the children had spent the day decorating the inside of the house for the holidays. A lovely fir tree lit the front window, and once he made it inside he saw all the other little touches. Fairy lights decorated each doorway, and Olivia quickly grabbed his hand, taking him upstairs to show him the small artificial trees with tiny ornaments they each had in their bedroom.

He made his way into the kitchen, kissing Molly on the cheek as she stirred dinner. “Any luck?” she asked, although she could tell by his expression that no, there’d been no luck.

Sherlock harumphed and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Nope. All three were useless. I’ve asked Mycroft if he has any suggestions. I’ll have the music store send out some more feelers. We still have another week before her birthday.”

Molly hummed in agreement, and called Will in to set the table. Dinner was the usual rowdy affair, but soon Molly and both children were snuggled under a blanket on the sofa, watching Doctor Who. 

 

Within two days, Mycroft sent three people over to Baker Street to meet with Sherlock, and on the last day, he finally hired a flute teacher for Olivia. They set up a schedule that she would come to the house on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after school. 

Olivia’s 5th birthday was on a Saturday. The moment the sun was up, Sherlock and Molly were treated to a newly minted five year old throwing herself onto their bed. “Mama! Papa! It’s my birthday! How long until my party? Is Amanda coming to my party?!’

Sherlock groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Molly grabbed Olivia and pulled her down and under the blankets with her. “It is your birthday! Happiest of birthdays, princess! Your party is not until after lunch and that is a long time from now, but first we have to have breakfast! What would the birthday girl like for breakfast?”

Olivia snuggled against her mother, thinking. Sherlock inched a hand under the covers until he was tickling Olivia, who squealed and tried to climb over Molly. Molly rolled Olivia over onto her far side. “Back, foul tickling beast!” she cried. “I must save the birthday girl!”

“Pancakes!” announced Olivia, who sprung out of the bed. “I want pancakes with strawberries!”

“The birthday girl has requested pancakes!” announced Sherlock in his most regal voice. He climbed out of the bed, grabbing a dressing gown and swirling it around him as he put it on. “To the kitchen!”

He and Olivia went downstairs, laughing, as Molly slowly climbed out of bed and put on her own dressing gown. She went downstairs and let Faraday out into the back garden, and stood by while Sherlock and Olivia discussed the best way to make pancakes.

Molly busied herself making coffee, and soon Will appeared in the doorway. “Happy birthday, Olivia!” he said, coming over and giving her a hug. “What are we having?”

“Pancakes!” she announced. “Papa put blueberries in them, and then we’re going to put strawberries on top!”

Will sat down at the table. “Uncle John and Aunt Mary are going to bring Gerti to the party so she can Faraday can play.”

Sherlock hummed noncommittally. The children had kept up their promise to take care of Faraday (the morning walk going out the window today notwithstanding - it was Olivia’s birthday, after all - but the townhouse was small, and they were already expecting a number of guests for the party.

Soon, however, the room was filled with the happy sounds of blueberry strawberry pancakes, and excitement over the party. Sherlock left with the car to pick up the cake and balloons, and Molly started getting things ready.

There was a quick lunch, and by the time they got that all straightened up, the guests had started to arrive. 

John and Mary and Amanda arrived first, Gerti in tow. Will immediately disappeared off to his room with both dogs. Amanda handed Olivia a small bag with her gift in it. “Thank you!” said Olivia.

A few of Olivia's school friends turned up, and the party was soon underway.


End file.
